


How to love

by Lalinka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Prostitute Dean, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalinka/pseuds/Lalinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Au. Sam and Dean are two young men on the opposed sides of society. One's rich and could have everything he wished for, while the other lived the most of his life on the street. Coincidence brings them together. Are they going to make it through everything that fate throws at them?<br/>Note: No dark stuff in this one</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first multichapter AND first AU story ever. Please, be gentle with me. I'm very self-conscious about it. While I'm proud of the story, I think I could do the chapter-splitting much better. But oh wells, it's done. I hope you'll enjoy it =]

Dean was released from hospital after the attack just yesterday and Riddley was already forcing him to go back on the streets. Riddley was the “owner of the street” and he wasn't that bad. He would look after his ‘investments’ as he would call the prostitutes (he did pay for Dean’s three days vacation in the hospital after all). But according to him, three days were enough, so here Dean was.  
  
Thanks to his looks, Dean had the luxury of being able to choose between his customers most of the time, so he figured if he stayed out of trouble, he should be fine. But then again, you never know you’re in trouble, until it takes you home. Dean had found himself in situations, that left him rather bruised and sore a couple times before, but he’d heard stories and seen things that made him consider himself lucky that was all it was.  
  
First potential customers were arriving and choosing their ‘caretaker’ for tonight. Dean was just leaning against the wall, eyeing the newcomers curiously and deciding whether he would reject them or go with them if they asked. That was one of the few rules of this street: Don’t ever approach a customer, let them choose you. Dean was ‘lucky’ enough to be picked almost every night he was offering himself.  
  
He watched a man in his mid-forties approach a girl he knew as Lily. She giggled and batted her lashes. The man leaned to her ear and whispered something. Lily’s eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled and waved on a girl with blue hair standing nearby. She walked toward them, all three of them shortly discussed something and then the man was walking away with both girls on his arms.  
  
Dean spotted a guy on the end of the street that somehow stood out above others. He was freakishly tall, shaggy hair, soft features. Dean caught himself wondering what a guy like that would be doing here, since considering his appearance he wouldn't have any trouble getting laid. His clothes screamed ‘money’. Dean couldn't recall ever seeing anyone like him down here before. Young spoiled brats usually got off in clubs; the customers here usually came out of despair, unhappy marriages or to ‘try something new’. And they were definitely older, poorer or uglier.  
  
Dean wasn't the only one to notice him. All the hookers, both male and female were watching him and showing themselves off to be picked by this guy. Dean could understand why. He was a pretty young thing and if he was rich, it meant a good place to spend the night. Men with money usually had a certain level of standards and picked hotels and rooms according to it.  
  
Dean could see the women winking and blowing kisses as the man walked past, pushing their breasts out, showing more of their already not very covered figure, while the men smiled seductively and flexed their muscles.  
  
Even Dean pushed himself off the wall and adjusted his shirt, so that his bruises weren't showing. He was pleased to notice, that the young man was looking at male prostitutes only, and hadn't stopped to talk to anyone yet. The attention he was getting seemed to make him uncomfortable. He was concentrating on the concrete beneath his feet, clutching his hands nervously and looking up only to do a quick once-over and then he quickly went on.  
  
As he was getting closer, Dean had a chance to look at him properly. He was taller than Dean, that was for sure. His body was lean and lanky. Not as muscular as Dean’s, but not scrawny either. His skin was olive-tanned. When he looked up, Dean could see the proud line of his jaw and perfect cheekbones, but before he could take a proper look at his face, it was covered in the dark mop of his long hair again.  
  
Then he finally looked up to check out Dean, too. He seemed even younger from the closer distance, early twenties was Dean’s best guess. There was something in the way he looked at him, almost as though Dean was exactly the one he was looking for, as thought he already knew him. But Dean would remember meeting someone like that before.  
  
The guy went straight to Dean, ignoring all the other men on his way, but when he finally reached him, he looked down at the ground again and his voice came out forced.  
  
“I, uh, would you...come with me?”  
  
Then he looked at Dean, smiling shyly. Dean actually thought it was cute. If he wasn't expecting something from the people, that came here, it was bashfulness. He wondered if this was the first time the man found himself on a place like this, because his behaviour sure seemed that way.  
  
Dean loved first-timers. They didn't know what they were allowed to demand or want, so Dean could pretty much have it his own way and that was how it suited him the most.  
  
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he winked and he could have sworn he heard the jealous hisses and growls of his rivals. He also noted that the guy blushed. It made him look even younger, like a child lost on his way from school. A really overgrown child, but still very out of place.  
  
He quickly glanced in the direction, where he knew Riddley’s boys were hidden behind the corner and nodded to confirm, that he was leaving with this guy. As said earlier, Riddley was looking after them. His guarding dogs, as they were calling them, were there 'just in case'. For example, if someone decided to rob a prostitute of any money they might have. It happens. It happened to Dean. Too bad, he was too far from the street for Riddley and his dogs to see, when the muggers attacked him. His fault for taking the shorter route home to his apartment, he should have known better. That was how he ended up in the hospital three days ago.  
  
They walked to the guy’s car -a nice and expensive looking Chevy- and when they were on the road, the man finally spoke again.  
  
“Uhm...this is gonna sound really weird, but I was wondering if it was possible to buy you for...like a week, maybe?”  
  
Dean raised his eyebrow. He got used to being treated like a thing rather than a person long time ago, so the sound of 'to buy you' didn't really offend him. He just didn't expect it from this guy. Maybe he wasn't as innocent as he made himself look.  
  
“Dunno, darlin’. Gonna have to check with my boss first,” he said and opened his phone to text Riddley.  
  
“Tell him that Wesson’s paying. That should chase away any doubts he would have about if I can afford it,” the young one said with a smile.  
  
Dean froze.  _Wesson, shit!_ He should have known! Of course, a young good-looking man picking him up with no hesitation? Shit, he should have known better than to think that he got lucky.  
  
Everybody knew the name Wesson. The face of Don Wesson was everywhere; he was an owner of some big company and made an unholy amount of money. This was probably his son, nephew, or something. And rich boys always meant trouble.  
The only time they pick a hooker from a street is, when they want to beat them, cut them and tear them to pieces,  _possibly_ without killing them. And they always pay enough money to both the hookers and their pimps, so that nobody ever complains.  _Why today?_  
  
 _Young Wesson wants to buy me for a week. U okay with that?_ Dean texted Riddley.  
  
 _Try not to get into hospital this time, have fun and take care._ Was the reply he got.  
  
“Okay, it’s official, I'm all yours this week,” he tried to sound excited, but he was feeling a little sick.  
  
He studied the man’s face. Wesson never let his eyes off the traffic and when Dean had told him he could have him the whole week, he smiled. Dean was looking for something evil in it, a grin, a twinkle in the eye, maybe, but the smile seemed genuine. It was more relieved than anything else, as though he expected to be denied. As if anybody would say 'no' to a Wesson.  
  
When they reached Wesson’s place, it was nothing like Dean expected. There was no driveway, no fountain in a large garden, no servants running to see if their master needed anything. Okay, maybe Dean  _didn't_ really expect servants, but what turned out to be Wesson’s house was so ordinary, it was almost disappointing. You could walk right past that house, not giving it a second thought. It was white, one floor, stuck at the end of a street full of similar white buildings.  
  
Inside of the house, it wasn't much different. There was a door to the right, a room right in front of the main door, that was both kitchen and living room. It was mostly white and clean, but from the glimpses Dean got at the furniture, it was some fine designer’s work. And to the left there was a long corridor with more doors. Wesson walked to one on the end of the corridor. Dean followed him, because what else was he supposed to do?  
  
Wesson opened the door and held it for him. The room looked like a guest bedroom.   
  
“Make yourself comfortable,” the guy said. “Oh and my name’s Sam,” he smiled and reached a hand towards Dean. Like they had just met in a bar and exchanged pleasantries. Like they were equals.  
  
“You've never done this before, have you?” Dean laughed.  
  
Sam frowned sheepishly.  
  
“You can call me Antonio,” Dean shook his hand.  
Sam grimaced at the alias Dean was using, but said nothing.  
  
“When you said 'make yourself comfortable' you meant...” Dean tried to find out what it was that Sam wanted from him.  
  
“Right, uh, I don’t know, there’s a bathroom,” he pointed to a door on the other side of the hallway, “take a shower, if you like? And then go to sleep, I guess. It’s late.”  
  
Dean blinked.  
  
“Sleep? Like peacefully sleep by myself? Are you sure? You have to pay for every night I stay here, not just the ones, when we...you know. When I'm working.”  
  
Sam just shrugged and looked at him helplessly.  
  
“You were right, okay? I've never done this before,” he sounded a little like he was pleading with Dean not to laugh at him.  
  
Dean smiled. Maybe he was going to cut his beaten body some slack, at least for a day or two more.  
  
“Okay, look, here’s the basic rules: I do  _not_ kiss on the mouth. You can either pay me on the end of the week, but then you gotta cover my expenses, or you can pay me on the end of every day, up to you. Also, please, either show me a signed paper from a doctor that you’re STD free or use a condom. I got myself checked last week and I'm still clean. And I had an accident last week, so I'm all bruises and stitches, so if I could ask you to either be gentle or wait with the hard stuff for a few days, that would be great.”  
  
Sam’s eyes widened.  
  
“H-hard stuff, no, I don’t-“  
  
God, this boy was either too sweet for his own good or a really great actor. The really rough guys were usually assholes and Dean allowed himself to hope, that since they were already here and Sam didn't have any obvious reasons to keep pretending, this might actually work out pretty well for him.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, alright? I’mma go take the shower now and I should be ready in like 30 minutes or so, if you want to come,” he smiled seductively at now dark red blushing Sam.  
  
“No, not today. Just get some rest.”  
  
And with that, Sam just walked away leaving a bewildered Dean behind.  
  
Well, Dean was certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He walked into the bathroom and he heard Sam in the kitchen, but he didn't pay much attention to him. Dean closed the door behind him and looked around with an opened mouth.  
  
 _If this is where all the money from buying a house went, then I get why he couldn't afford anything bigger than this_ , he thought.  
  
The bathroom was about the same size as the apartment Riddley was providing him. There were a bath and a shower, sinks for two people, shelves with bottles of all possible shapes, sizes and contents. There were towels, too. White and soft like Dean had never seen before, let alone used. Dean slapped his forehead when he remembered that he didn't bring anything with. No clothes, not even a toothbrush. He could try out Sam’s seeming kindness and ask him to buy him one.  
  
He still didn't know what Sam was up to and it was unnerving, because Dean always thought of himself as capable of reading people. It was fundamental in the life he was living.  
  
 _Well this is going to be an interesting week_ , Dean thought as he stepped into the shower, that had six heads instead of one, and many tempting buttons, that Dean was curious about and for the next thirty minutes he allowed himself to forget about what was yet to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Dean woke up in a comfortable bed, clean and alone. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, but then he remembered where he was.  
  
 _Time to get to work_ , he thought bitterly as he got up. He noticed a pile of clothes on a chair next to his bed with a toothbrush on the top of it. None of it was his; his pants and shirt lay discarded on the floor. Sam was thorough with the whole ‘covering the expenses’ thing. What Dean had in mind were condoms and something to eat, maybe. But he did pick a shirt and shorts and walked out of his room to find Sam.  
  
He found him in a kitchen, eating breakfast and reading newspaper. He was dressed like a businessman going to work. Dean took a deep breath and walked in.  
  
“Morning,” Dean faked a smile.  
  
Sam either ignored him or didn't hear him, so Dean walked behind him.  
  
“Morning!” he tried again. He chuckled, when Sam almost choke on his orange juice.  
  
“Dude, what the-I mean-Morning,” he said once he stopped coughing.  
  
“Sorry,” Dean shrugged, but he wasn't really, because Sam was blushing again and Dean just couldn't get enough of that.  
  
Sam quickly got up and took a few steps back, looking everywhere but at Dean.  
  
“I see you found the clothes, good. Eat anything you like for breakfast. And for lunch, cause I'm going to work. Here’s some money if you decide to go out. I should be back around seven or so.”  
  
With that, he took a briefcase and a jacket and headed out. Not too long after that, Dean heard the car start and drive away.  
  
He was puzzled. He seriously couldn't figure out this one out. Was there something wrong with him or Sam? If the guy weren't gay, he wouldn't have picked up a male hooker. If he didn't find Dean attractive enough, either he wouldn't have picked him in the first place or he would have kicked him out by now. If he was a virgin,  _not_ having sex was not going to help. Maybe he was just super shy, though someone as handsome and as rich as Sam Wesson shouldn't have to be self-conscious.  
  
Dean picked up the money. It was his usual payment for a night full of wild sex and he just got it for sleeping and taking a shower. By himself.  
  
He sat down and ate his breakfast, trying to figure out what to do with his time, because usually he spent his days sleeping after an exhausting night. Which did not happen today. And Sam wasn't going to need him until seven. Even though thinking about it Dean couldn't recall Sam saying  _'be there when I get back'_ , but it would make sense.  
  
So Dean just pretty much spent his afternoon going through small shops on the edge of the neighbourhood, where he still dared to go without the fear of getting lost, and bought himself a thing or two here and then something there, which is something he never got to do before. He felt happy like a ten-year-old. Well not ten year old  _himself_ ,but some kid with a normal childhood.  
  
He got back home at 6:30 with two full bags and no money left, but he didn't really care. He took a shower, picked something sexy from his pile of clothes and decided to make dinner for him and Sam. He had to earn the money  _somehow_.  
  
It was a hot day, so Dean decided a cold salad would be a wise choice. He was hoping that Sam would appreciate it, because he really didn't want to piss him off. Even though he was making dinner for the two of them and was curious to find out, what was Sam’s idea of having fun with Dean, he found himself half-wishing Sam didn't come back home.  
  
But Sam naturally did. The salad Dean was making was just ready to be served and he was setting out the table.  
  
“What are you doing?!” Sam yelled from the door.  
  
 _Oh shit._  
  
“Uhh, sorry, I didn't know there was a no touch rule. I just wanted to make you dinner, ‘s all,” Dean tried to sound light, but not brash. He quickly let go of the plates and took a step away from the table. He wasn't scared; he just didn't want to make things even worse.  
  
“No, I, uh, that’s not what I meant,” Sam said quickly, “I just don’t want you to think you’re my servant now,” Sam explained.  
  
“Hey, you are paying for it, right? So might as well sit down and enjoy it,” Dean winked and gestured for Sam to sit down.  
  
“Right, sorry,” Sam said with an apologetic smile as he sat down, “thank you.”  
  
“So...how was work?” Dean said and slapped himself mentally immediately. Such a cheesy thing to say! Sam wasn't his husband for god’s sake! He didn't even know why he had the urge to say anything, he just didn't want it to be so damn quiet.  
  
“Tiring, as always,” Sam sighed and didn't seem to mind Dean’s clumsy try to maintain a conversation. Dean wondered how long he had until his luck ran out.  
  
“This is good!” Sam exclaimed after taking a bite from his salad.  
  
“Haha, glad you like it. I'm more of a burger guy, though.”  
  
“Oh, sure, I’ll just buy something tomorrow.”  
  
Dean wanted to say something, because he  _didn't_ say he wanted  _Sam_ to take care of his tongue’s quirks, but Sam spoke first.  
  
“Oh, that reminds me,” he searched for something in his briefcase, “I got you this in the drug store.”  
  
He put out some cream, that was supposed to help you heal, and new bandages and tossed them at Dean.  
  
“Figured you might need those.”  
  
Dean wasn't sure what to think. Were these supposed to help him heal  _before_ or  _after_ the action? As though Sam was reading his mind, he smiled and added.  
  
“You said you were all bruises and stitches, so I thought this might help you recover.”  
  
“T-Thanks,” Dean muttered.  
  
He was startled. This guy was just purely  _taking care_ of him! He wasn't sure whether to feel pleased or scared of the upcoming events. He wasn't used to being taken care of. Not that every single costumer treated him badly, not at all, there were some really decent ones, but none so far had really  _cared_. And he didn't think Sam did either, not unconditionally at least.  
  
The truth was, the bruises were healing nicely, but the stitches were itchy and he felt them burn with every incautious move and he could use those little treats Sam was offering, no matter what they meant.  
  
“Do you, uh, need help with putting it on?” Sam asked shyly.  
  
Oh dear, there it was, he was blushing again. It did funny things to Dean, though he couldn't quite explain what it was.  
  
“Sure, I wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands,” he winked.  
He was pretty sure there wasn't a 'no, thanks, I’ll manage' option, but Sam still looked pleasantly surprised.  
  
“Now?” Dean asked as he was putting the dishes into dishwasher.  
  
Sam opened his mouth, then closed it, blinked in surprise and blushed a little harder.  
  
“Uh, s-sure,” he managed to say then.  
  
They went back to what was Dean’s bedroom now and Dean stripped his shirt off. He noticed that Sam had looked elsewhere again and kept on blushing heavily. It made him smile.  
  
He also noticed the complete lack of action on Sam’s side. He didn't watch him strip down to his boxers hungrily, he didn't try to touch, he didn't throw Dean on the bed right there. He just waited patiently. So Dean planted himself wordlessly face down to the mattress and let Sam take care of his back.  
  
“These look nasty, man,” he heard Sam hiss.  
  
Sam’s hands were gentle, his long fingers carefully putting the cream on his stitches, but not really touching anywhere it wasn't necessary. It was pleasantly cooling Dean’s hot skin. And the delicate, sure movements of Sam’s hands were lulling him to sleep, but he willed himself to stay awake.  
  
Once his back was all bandaged up, Sam carefully turned him around and did the same with his chest and stomach. Dean was watching him and wondering if things would go any further tonight. He was surprised to find out, that he wished they did. It was not that abnormal to be turned on by a costumer, but with years, it happened to him less and less often. And yet here he was, lying on his back with Sam’s hands on his torso, wondering how the olive skin would feel under his hands, how it smelled, wanting to find out if Sam was a screamer or if he had a dirty mouth; he really wanted to have sex with the man.  
  
He noticed that even though there was nothing left to bandage, Sam’s hands were staying on him. He felt Sam’s eyes trailing up his stomach, then chest to his head, but when he noticed that Dean was staring back at him, he quickly got up, muttered “Goodnight” and almost stumbled over his feet, trying to get out of the room.  
  
Dean just sighed, rolled on his side and fell asleep, admitting to himself that he might just not solve this puzzle.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean opened his eyes the following morning, the clock was showing it was a few minutes past noon. The worst thing about sleeping in is, that no matter how long you slept, you’ll always feel like you could sleep some more. Dean rolled himself off the bed only very reluctantly.  
  
When he was done with morning bathroom activities, there was already a breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen table and the same amount of money as yesterday. To his pleasant surprise he found everything he needed to prepare a homemade burger for dinner.  
  
He spent the rest of his afternoon out in town again, but this time he didn't buy anything, except for ice cream and strawberries. He couldn't remember ever tasting anything better than that. He decided to buy some for Sam too. He wanted to win some favour with him.  
  
He got home early, so he decided to explore the place a little further. He already knew his bedroom, bathroom and the kitchen/living room. He thought it was funny and maybe a little unfair, that Sam had a kitchen, that most of housewives would kill for, ceramic desk, big fridge, lots of useful shelves and everything, while he was at work all day and lived all by himself.  
  
Dean had to stop his thinking there. By himself? How would Dean know?  
  
 _Day 3 and I know absolutely nothing about the guy!_ He realized. Maybe it was a regular thing for Sam to invite a paid companion for a week into his house. Maybe he just broke up with his partner and didn't want to be alone. He might be planning to kill him on the end of the week for all Dean knew.  
  
He made himself comfortable on the big, soft sofa in the other half of the room that served as living room. There were bookshelves full of books of all possible kinds and genres. Sam was a bookworm. There was a big screen too, so Dean turned it on and watched some meaningless show, while he was trying to figure out how to get to Sam at least a little. Hey, Dean was curious, okay?  
  
But when Sam got home and they ate the burgers that Dean made for them, they were still silent, because Dean hadn't figured out anything yet. Dean took out a plate full of strawberries and put it in front of Sam.  
  
“Try this, man! This is like the best thing I've ever eaten!”  
  
Sam looked confused.  
  
“Dude, they’re just strawberries,” he laughed softly, when he ate one to find out, what was so special about them.  
Dean’s face fell and he felt a little disappointed for no reason.  
  
“Right, just strawberries...sorry...” Dean felt suddenly so small compared to Sam and it had nothing to do with Sam being a few inches taller than him.  
  
 _You’re a stupid idiot, Dean Smith! Strawberries! I bet this kid had already tried every single delicious thing there is!_  
  
“No,” Sam bit his bottom lip, “I didn’t mean-...they  _are_ delicious!”  
  
“Don’t bother, I should have known they’re just plain fruit to you,” Dean said a little too harshly. It wasn't even fair, Sam was nothing but nice to him. And Dean certainly wasn't in a position to be bitchy.  
  
But he couldn't help it; it stung a little. He wasn't sure what was going on with him.  
  
“Do you need me for anything else or am I free to go to take a shower now?” he asked him, keeping his voice purposely emotionless.  
  
Sam flinched a little at his words and looked down on his plate, but shook his head.  
  
So Dean escaped to the bathroom. He quickly removed and threw away all the bandages from yesterday and enjoyed the hot shower. The water never ran cold in this place.  
  
As the water was hitting his body, he realized the stitches barely hurt at all. He finally felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for being such an ass to Sam, because frankly, he was having the best days of like the last ten years of his life, he didn't have to do anything for that and all thanks to Sam. Sam, who was left in the kitchen with empty dishes, looking so dejected it was sad, instead of raging and yelling at Dean as he had every right to.  
  
When he was out and dressed in what he decided to be his sleeping t-shirt and shorts, he was contemplating the best way to apologize to Sam for being a jerk without any apparent reason.  
  
There was a soft knock on the door of his bedroom.  
  
“Hi,” Sam whispered softly and stood in the door, as though he wasn't sure, if he could enter  _his own freaking guest room_.  
  
“I'm sorry...I guess,” he sighed. “Not quite sure what I've done, but I didn't mean to upset you. Sorry.”  
  
This was getting bizarre. Dean was positive they both knew that Sam didn't have to apologize for anything, especially since none of it was his fault. Did Sam want Dean to be dominant and boss him around; was that what got him off? Cause if so, all he has to do is just  _ask for it_ , god dammit! Or was this some kind of a game? Because if so, then it would be very nice of Sam to explain the rules.   
  
Dean sighed.  
  
“I'm not upset, I didn't mean anything by that, okay? Don’t listen to old bitter me,” he feigned a smile, but the truth was; he was getting tired of this. Not the comfort and illusion of freedom that Sam was offering, God knows he could have that forever, but he was tired of trying to figure Sam and his wishes out. If Sam wants anything from him, he has to ask for it.  
  
“I was...wondering...if you still needed help with taking care of your stitches,” Sam asked ever so quietly and something grew heavy in Dean’s chest, when he noticed, that Sam isn't just shy anymore, that he’s scared now. Scared of rejection. Or maybe even expecting it.  
  
“Sure, whatever,” Dean shrugged and took his shirt off. He regretted the choice of his words and the tone of his voice immediately, when he saw the crestfallen look on Sam’s face. He looked like a sad kicked puppy and Dean wanted that look to go away from Sam’s face, now!  
  
“I mean, it would be nice,” he said quickly, before Sam could leave, smiled wholeheartedly and obediently lay down on his bed. Maybe Sam had some kind of Mother Theresa complex and bought him, because of his bruises, because he needed to take care of someone. Dean was fine with that.  
  
The creaming and bandaging passed the same as yesterday. Sam acknowledged with a hint of satisfaction, that Dean was almost healed now. When he rolled Dean over to bandage his front and smiled down at his work, it struck Dean how handsome Sam was. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of his soft pink lips, as he concentrated on the work. His brows were slightly creased and his eyes reflected the light, as though there were little fires in them.  
  
Dean had decided to make a move. Maybe that what’s he’s here for? Maybe Sam suffers from some sex anxiety and Dean’s hired to help him get over it? Or maybe Dean just used that as an excuse to finally touch him. This was all very new to him, to be in a bedroom with a handsome stranger and not knowing if they were going to have sex or not, but wanting to.  
  
So when Sam was done carefully creaming and bandaging him, Dean slowly sat up and softly touched the back of Sam’s neck. Sam’s breath hitched, but he didn't move away. Instead, he gazed intensely into Dean’s eyes. His hazel eyes were sparkling with anticipation in a way that was almost mesmerizing.  
  
Dean smirked. Sam  _was_ into him after all. He was just waiting for him to do the first move. Strange, but okay, let it be his way.  
  
Dean leaned in and brushed his lips against Sam’s neck. He felt the soft hair on Sam’s neck stand up and smiled to himself. He planted an open-mouthed kiss there and then started sucking on it, drawing a soft “Oh...” out of Sam.  
  
Whatever it was, that held Sam back, it stopped working, when Dean moved down to his collarbone and nibbled on it gently. Some buttons are the same with all men.  
Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, gripping it tightly, when Dean moved even lower to suck and tease Sam’s nipples. He practically collapsed into Dean’s lap, pushing him down and straddling him. He leaned down to kiss Dean’s mouth, but stopped himself right in time.  
  
“Ah, sorry, no mouth,” he grinned sheepishly.  
  
As he shifted his weight, he accidentally put too much pressure on one of Dean’s bandaged wounds and he hissed in pain.  
  
“Oh, crap, I'm so so-“  
  
“Shh,” Dean hushed him with a finger gently placed on his lips, “you’re paying for it, it’s going to be any way you want it,” he smiled sensually and reached for Sam to drag him down, but Sam suddenly stopped moving.  
  
“P-paying for it...right...” he gave Dean such pained look all of a sudden, that he almost hugged him.   
  
But before he could do anything, Sam got up quickly and ran away.  
  
Dean had no idea, what just happened. Sam  _was_ paying for it, wasn't he? Maybe Dean read him wrong, maybe he really was a virgin, who didn't have any luck with ‘real’ people, so he had to buy Dean. And maybe he just wanted it to feel real.  
  
 _And you just screwed up big time_ , Dean berated himself internally.  
  
He went after Sam, but he wasn't in the kitchen or anywhere he looked. The house wasn't that big, so it was obvious, that Sam would be behind the last closed door – his bedroom as Dean found out this morning.  
  
“Sam?” Dean knocked.  
  
He heard a muffed sound, it sounded a lot like someone was trying to hide a sob. Dean decided to invade Sam’s privacy and hoped he wasn't breaking some of Sam’s rules. Not like Sam ever gave him any.  
  
Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face was carefully blank, when he looked at Dean, but Dean didn't miss the way he wiped his eyes quickly or that his eyes were a little redder, than they should be.  
  
“Sam...” Dean approached him carefully, “you seem so upset around me lately, did I do anything wrong?”  
  
It wasn't just that Dean was scared he messed up too much this time and his week would end early. That was a big part of the reason, he was here with Sam, but there was a genuine concern, too. Dean himself was surprised that he was even capable of such emotion.  
  
Sam just shook his head.  
  
“’S okay,” he said. His voice was almost not giving anything away, but Dean still heard the slight tremble.   
“I'm just being oversensitive, my brother always said I was supposed to be born a girl,” Sam said with a mirthless chuckle.  
  
“Wanna talk to me about it?” Now that was also genuine concern. He honestly didn't know when did he start caring for this kid, but he had to admit he did now. It was kind of scary, if Dean should be honest, but then, he was sure everyone, who ever met Sam, felt that way about him.  
  
“Not what you’re paid for,” Sam looked down at his hands.  
  
“No, that one’s free,” Dean smiled and sat next to Sam on the bed.  
  
“I-I just,” Sam stuttered, “I wanted you to be out of there, you know? At least for some time. To catch a break, to have some time for yourself. To heal. But somehow, I'm failing to make you feel it’s real. You still expect me to use you and I can’t really blame you. I sure as hell couldn't keep my hands off you a while back, but that’s not what this is about. S-sorry,” he choked out and a few tears were running down his cheeks.  
  
“You really care about me,” Dean whispered and it wasn't a question. It was a realisation and it hit him hard and left him completely thunderstruck. This guy doesn't even know him! He couldn't know anything and yet he wanted to give him this.  
  
Dean gently touched Sam’s face to wipe the tears away.  
“W-why?” he said, staring deep into Sam’s eyes, searching for the answer.  
  
“I guess it’s true what they say; save someone’s life and you’re responsible for it forever,” Sam laughed bitterly.  
  
If anything, that confused Dean even more.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I was there, you know? The night you were mugged. I drove by and saw the guys run off, but I stopped, when I saw you. You were beaten to death, man; I was so scared you’d die on me! I brought you to the hospital and even stuck around to see if you were going to be okay,” Sam wasn't crying anymore, but he was looking at his hands in his lap.  
  
“S-Sam, I-“Dean didn't know what to say. There were no words for the mix of all kinds of emotions that were battling for dominance inside of him.  
  
“I'm sorry I never visited you,” Sam continued. He seemed determined to reveal the story all at once. “I wanted to, but the first day you were out of it and when you woke up...I mean, you just laid there and  _no one_ came to visit you, even though you made one call- yeah, I was watching you closely, sorry -and you seemed so  _lonely_! And I-...I simply got scared. I mean, what would I even tell you? Why would you want to talk to me? And then I got called to work, an emergency.  
  
“I got back two days later, but you were already gone. I wanted to pay for the hospital, ‘cause I thought that maybe the robbers took all your money, but I found out it was already paid for. And I had enough money to convince the hospital to tell me who paid for it. And that’s how I knew where to find you. Wow, I'm such a pathetic little stalker, aren't I? Whoa, are you okay?!”  
  
Sam almost jumped, when he dared to look back at Dean and saw him with opened mouth and tears falling from his eyes. _No one_ has  _ever_ shown so much care for him as this guy. Not ever since his dad died and maybe longer. This guy gave a damn about Dean’s well being. He cared. And it woke up the emotions inside Dean that he thought he wasn't able to feel anymore. And now he didn't know what to do with them and his eyes just started to cry.  
  
“Y-yeah, I-I'm great!” he wiped away the tears quickly and offered Sam a hand.   
  
“Let’s start this over. My name’s Dean,” he smiled.  
Sam smiled back.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Dean. Now that’s a cool name. Much better than  _Antonio_ ,” he made a face that made Dean laugh.  
  
And the next thing he knew, he was grabbing Sam’s head and kissing his lips.  
  
“Hey!” Sam whispered, when they finally broke off, “Don’t give me any of the pity- or grateful-sex shit, please.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean whispered back, “I won’t.”  
  
And then he kissed him again.  
  
They slept in one bed that night. They didn't have sex, much to Dean’s surprise; Sam just wanted to cuddle. Sam seemed to fall asleep almost immediately, but Dean was lying awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to make some sense from the mess in his head.  
  
Something about the guy spread out next to him was making Dean lose his mind. He had already broken three of the most important rules! Don’t kiss them on the mouth, don’t give them your real name and do  _not f_ all in love with them. Okay, so he wasn't in love, but he was in something and that was bad enough.  
  
He had just known the kid for three days and he already felt connected to him. But what was blowing his mind off the most was that he, Sam freaking Wesson himself , cared about him too. He thought things like that only happened in movies. Maybe that was it; maybe this was some kind of new reality show. Or maybe Dean was dreaming, because it sure as hell didn't feel real.  
  
He was lying there, running fingers through Sam’s soft hair, listening to his evened breathing and trying to rationalize the emotional state he was in. He honestly felt like crying again and what the hell, Dean Smith doesn't cry.  
  
Dean felt a cold pinch in the area of his stomach, when he remembered, that he only had four days left with this amazingly caring man and then he was probably back to streets again. He had to stop feeling all this chick-flick crazy shit, before he got himself hurt. Despite that decision, he felt a tear slipping out of his eye. And then a soft pad of a finger wiping it away.  
  
“Can’t sleep?” Sam whispered and smiled, when Dean looked at him.  
  
“Nah, too much on my mind,” Dean sighed honestly.  
  
“Come here,” Sam pulled Dean closer, so that Dean was snuggled under his chin.  
  
Even though he told himself not to get involved any further just minutes ago, Dean still wrapped his arms around Sam’s body.  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, rubbing circles on Dean’s back,” Everything’s okay. I'm going to take care of you.”  
  
And with that, he fell asleep again, not noticing the wet stain on his pyjamas, right where Dean’s face was.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up first in the morning. Dean was sleeping peacefully next to him. Sam admired the sight, because Dean looked a little like an angel. His face was smooth and relaxed, his lips slightly parted and his breath was even. Sam wasn't sure why, but he wanted Dean to be happy. He got up very careful not to wake him and went to bathroom to take a shower.  
  
He had no idea what was pulling him towards the guy in his bedroom so strongly, he didn't even know him a week ago. Apart from the fact, that he was naturally hot, there was something in his eyes, something like a deep hidden sorrow and Sam knew he couldn't even begin to imagine, what this man had been trough in his life already. What he  _could_ imagine though, was spending the rest of his life with him, Sam, trying to make it better.  
  
The image of Dean lying in the hospital bed was still fresh in Sam’s memory and so were the anxieties that came with it. He felt responsible for the man’s well-being. He’d always been sensitive and caring; he brought home wounded animals and had numerous fights with his father about them. Dean was something like that, a wounded animal and Sam felt compelled to look after him.  
  
He had to wake himself up from the thoughts, because he was late for work. He quickly made scrambled eggs for breakfast, left half of it on the pan for Dean, put some cash on the table and walked out of the house.  
  
The building of the Wesson’s company was spectacular. It was a huge monster of glass and concrete. Sam parked his car in the secluded part of garage for people in high places. He took a deep breath and got out of his car with a broad fake smile that he was always using in this place.  
  
He  _hated_ his job. Yes, of course, he had the boss sign on his door, but everybody knew that the real boss was his father. In his office, it was all ‘Yes, Mr. Wesson’, ‘Of course, Mr. Wesson’ and ‘As you wish, Mr. Wesson’. He didn't even know why he was there in the first place. For every important decision, there were the right people to make them, for phone calls, there was his secretary, so pretty much all he had to do was to sign a paper, whenever someone brought him one.  
  
He was making money that every bank in the country envied him from sitting behind his desk, drinking coffee and looking out of the window. While there were people like Dean, who...  
  
No matter what he did, he couldn't get his mind off Dean. He wondered, what he was doing while he was alone all afternoon and if he was as excited about Sam coming back home as Sam was. Yeah, Sam might be a little...emotionally based.  
  
As most of the time, nothing interesting happened the whole day. When his work time was over, he quickly drove home, but then he thought of something to surprise Dean and grinned as he changed the direction of his car. He had to wait for it a little while, but then he had the paper and was on his way home.  
  
He opened the door and a smell of something good hit his nose. When he entered the kitchen, he spotted Dean cooking something and smiled. He could get used to coming home to Dean.  
  
“What’s that? Smells delicious,” he said and laughed, when he saw Dean jump.  
  
“Dude!” Dean exclaimed mock angrily. “You can’t sneak upon me like that!”  
  
Then he smiled and put a wooden spoon with something creamy on it in front of Sam’s mouth.  
  
“I'm experimenting with mushrooms,” he winked.  
  
Sam opened his mouth and licked the sauce off the spoon, burning his tongue and mouth in the process.  
  
Dean just laughed, when he saw his face and quickly gave him a glass of cool water.  
  
“What are you doing, man? It’s hot!”  
  
“Thanks for the heads up,” Sam muttered sheepishly.  
  
Dean just stuck out his tongue and went back to cooking.  
They finished eating pasta with Dean’s sauce-delicious, by the way, that guy was a master chef in his previous life, that was for sure- and they were just sitting at the table, drinking beer and Sam felt Dean eyeing him curiously.  
  
“What?” he asked finally, “Something on my face?”  
  
“Nah, your face’s perfect,” Dean answered and smiled, when Sam felt his cheeks go red. “I'm just trying to figure out what the next move is. I mean, something like this has never happened to me before, you know? I don’t even know what  _this_ is.”  
  
Sam knew exactly what was he talking about. He’d been trying to wrap his own head around this for a while now.  
  
“Yeh, tell me about it,” he laughed nervously and reached for the paper in his briefcase and pushed it towards Dean. “I did however get the STD free paper,” he grinned and felt his cheek burn. Oh god, how he hated it. “You know, just in case,” he tried to sound casual, but judging by the smirk on Dean’s face, he was failing.  
  
“You’re cute, you know that?” Dean said getting up from his chair.  
  
That wasn't helping Sam at all. He got up as well to put the dishes into the machine, but was stopped by Dean’s hands on his hips and his face not more than an inch away from his own.  
  
“Don’t,” he said quickly and stepped away from Dean. He felt his heart race and his hips felt on fire, where Dean had his hands just a moment ago. He knew his body wanted the contact, hell,  _he_ wanted the contact, but not like this. He noticed Dean’s surprise, but he couldn't do it. It was making him sad, that Dean still thought Sam bought him as some whore to keep him entertained. He  _understood_ why Dean felt that way on the beginning, but he thought they made it clear last night.  
  
“You changed your mind, you don’t want me anymore, is that it?” Dean asked quietly and Sam was surprised to see a flash of hurt in his eyes.  
  
“No, god, that’s not it!” Sam said maybe a little too quickly and blushed again slightly. “I do want you, alright? You just...I don’t know, feel special, you know? And I don’t want you to do this. Not because I paid for it. Not because you think it’s your job.”  
  
Sam sighed, tried to escape the awkward tension between them by getting rid of the dishes, and was stopped by Dean once again.  
  
“What if I don’t?” he said, stepping closer to Sam.  
  
“Huh?” Sam suddenly almost forgot what they were talking about, all he could think about was how gorgeous Dean’s lips looked and how good the breath on his cheek felt.  
“What if I'm doing this, because I want to? Forget the money, forget the job. I...I want you for you.”  
  
Sam could have sworn it was Dean, who blushed a little now.  
  
And then Dean was kissing him and Sam felt his knees buckle, so he held on to Dean and kissed him back as though his life depended on it. Dean took the dishes out of his hands and settled it onto the table without breaking the kiss.  
  
When they finally did break off to get some much needed air, Sam found himself backed to a wall. He rested his forehead against Dean’s.  
  
“Please,” he managed to whisper between the pants,” Please, tell me, that you mean it.”  
  
Dean cupped his cheek and looked him deeply in the eyes. His eyes were beautifully green, like an emerald and they were somewhat darkened by the lust.  
  
“I do. I mean it, I promise.”  
  
And at least for now, Sam believed him.  
  
“So...your place or mine?” Dean laughed softly, as he was guiding Sam out of the kitchen.  
  
Sam’s bedroom was like two steps away, whereas Dean’s was on the other end of the corridor. It was no contest.  
Sam grabbed Dean’s T-shirt and pushed them through the door to his bedroom. He felt Dean’s hands pushing him gently on the bed. As he sat down, Dean put his legs on either side of his lap and started unbuttoning his shirt, while sucking and biting gently on his neck. Sam tugged his hands under Dean’s T-shirt, running them up and down his firm stomach. He noticed that the bandages were gone, Dean must have taken them down earlier and he remembered Dean being hurt.  
  
“You have to,” he whispered between frantic kisses, “stop me, if it hurts.”  
  
“Been long enough,” he felt Dean smile against him. “I'm fine.”  
  
And with that, he lowered Sam’s body on the bed and they both shifted up to get comfortable.  
  
Sam felt his body arching against Dean’s mouth trailing down his chest and stomach. One of his hands found its way to Dean’s short hair.  
  
Dean undid the button and the zipper of his pants with his teeth and pulled them down, along with his boxers. Sam gasped as his throbbing erection was freed.  
  
He felt Dean licking softly the tip of his cock and moaned loudly. He should probably feel embarrassed by it, but he was too lost in the sensation to even notice.  
  
Dean was sucking and licking his cock and Sam was writhing in pleasure and moaning like a slut.  
  
“D-Dean!” he cried out to warn him, that he was close.  
Dean stopped paying attention to his now painfully hard member and moved back up.  
  
“You’re not coming, Sam, not yet,” he whispered in a husky voice into Sam’s ear and it made Sam whimper.  
  
He heard Dean chuckle and wanted to say something in defence, but Dean’s kiss stopped him.  
  
“It’s okay, I know I'm good,” he grinned against his mouth and then looked around. “Got a lube around here somewhere?”  
  
“T-top...drawer,” Sam breathed out, putting all his efforts into thinking and speaking coherently.  
  
He closed his eyes and groaned as Dean’s finger pushed through his entrance. Sam was no virgin, so it didn't take long for Dean to stretch him open with two and then three fingers. He kept pushing them in and out, brushing Sam’s prostate with every other thrust. Then he put his fingers out, leaving Sam to feel empty.  
  
Dean put his hands on either side of Sam’s head and lowered his head so their noses were touching.  
  
“P-please,” Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, “Dean, please...”  
  
He opened his eyes and gazed into the lust blown pupils of Dean’s.  
  
“Keep ‘em open,” Dean commanded and slowly pushed into Sam.  
  
It was an uphill battle, because Dean was slowly increasing the speed of his thrust and he was hitting Sam’s sweet spot over and over, but he never stopped looking into Sam’s eyes and Sam’s eyes wanted to close on their own will. Sam fisted the sheets on his bed till his knuckles were white, but he managed to keep his eyes open for Dean.  
  
That was until he felt Dean’s hands around his cock, fisting him in the rhythm of the thrusts.  
  
“Dean I'm gonna-I'm gonna-“ and then his body arched one last time and he came all over his stomach and Dean’s hand, crying Dean’s name out loud.  
  
It took Dean a few more thrusts, and Sam felt him coming inside of his body and it felt amazing. Dean bit Sam’s neck as he came, enough to leave a mark, but not enough for it to actually hurt.   
  
As Sam was regaining control of his brain again, he noticed, that Dean was pretty much silent the whole time. A nagging voice in the back of his head was worried, that he didn't like it, that Sam was still just a job to be done. Quite literally.  
  
“Oh god, wow, that was...that was amazing!” Sam said, when Dean collapsed next to him.  
  
“You can call me Dean, just 'cause it’s you,” Dean grinned and Sam punched his shoulder playfully, but laughed.  
  
“Do you work on weekends too?” Dean asked him.  
  
That question was so random, that it caught Sam completely off guard.  
  
“Uh, no?”  
  
“Good,” Dean smiled and seemed to be drifting to sleep.  
  
Sam’s brain was still too fucked to work properly, but it finally made the connection.  
  
 _Saturday. Tomorrow. Right._  
  
Dean turned his back to him and Sam felt suddenly so alone. Which was stupid, because Dean was  _right next to him_. It was like all the connection he thought they created between him and Dean was just in his mind. Like he was just another face in the long list of Dean’s customers, just signed by a famous name. He really believed in Dean, when he said he meant for this to be real. But he was scared, that this wasn't what he hoped it was. Dean was probably still working. Why would he ever feel anything for someone like Sam? He was sure Dean hated him. People tend to hate the rich, especially the ones with tough life.  
  
He fought off the urge to hug Dean from behind or at least to touch Dean’s back, just to make sure. He was definitely supposed to be born a girl. He just sighed and curled to himself, trying to ignore the dull pain in his chest, because it didn't make sense.  
  
“Oh right, forgot you were a cuddler,” he heard Dean say and shift on the mattress to hug him from behind.  
  
“It’s cool if you’re not. You don’t have to, really,” Sam answered, hoping Dean would read between the lines, that Sam wanted this more than anything at that moment.  
  
“Never got the chance to figure out. Might as well be,” Dean yawned.  
  
Any negative feelings Sam might have felt earlier were gone, just like that. Sam should probably be concerned about the effect Dean had on him, but he wasn't. He was happy and hopeful again.  
  
When he was sure Dean was fast asleep, Sam intertwined their fingers and let the sleep overtake him with a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean woke up and found himself breathing the scent of Sam, still pressed to his chest. He didn't remember holding his hand before he fell asleep, but he didn't mind it. He glanced at the clock to see that it was almost 11 am. Well, Sam didn't lie, when he said he wasn't going anywhere. The thought of that made Dean smile and that confused him a little. The emotions that came with this thing they apparently had with Sam were still too overwhelming.  
  
He grinned to himself, when he spotted the bite mark on Sam’s neck. His mind wandered back to last night. He couldn't remember ever putting  _anything_ into sex and this just felt so full of  _feelings_! He still remembered Sam’s eyes filled with lust and the way he struggled to keep them opened, just because Dean told him to. Only remembering that made his cock twitch. In a way, it was Dean’s first time, because it was the only sex in his life he recalled, that actually meant something. For Dean at least.  
  
Dean knew he should still be careful about having feelings for a customer, but he also knew he was failing miserably to prevent himself from feeling some kind of a strong affection towards the handsome man. Naturally, he was grateful for everything Sam had done for him, but there was more to it. Sometimes he caught himself expecting to wake up any minute and find out, that it was all just a dream.  
  
He kissed the bitten spot on Sam’s neck and inhaled the scent again. Sam smelled of aftershave, soap and sweat and to Dean, it was just perfect. He felt Sam stir under his kiss and then he turned around and opened his eyes.  
  
Sam’s eyes were doing funny things to Dean. They were just gorgeous. He thought he couldn't love them more than last night, but seeing them now, filled with affection, care and shining with happiness, Dean knew things had officially spun way out of his control.  
  
“Hey, handsome,” Sam smiled sleepily and Dean’s heart was melting.  
  
“Hey,” he answered and leaned down to kiss Sam’s inviting lips.  
  
A kiss led to making out, but after a while, it was Sam, who pulled away.  
  
“I need a shower,” he said, looking at the dried stains of come. “And clean sheets,” he added with a laugh.  
  
Dean felt kinda disappointed, but then again, he could use a shower himself. He watched Sam leave for the bathroom, but stop in the door.  
  
“You coming or what?” he asked with raised eyebrow and that was all the invitation Dean needed to follow him.  
  
They were both still naked, so they just walked straight into the shower. Sam barely had the time to turn the water on, before Dean pressed his back against the piles and kissed him hard. Sam attempted to push him away, but soon submitted and just responded to the kiss.  
  
Dean felt the hot sprays of water splash against his body and forced himself to stop kissing Sam. He just took a step back and admired Sam’s naked body with water trailing down from his broad chest to his already hard erection. Then he looked up to Sam, who was blushing again.  
  
Dean reached his hand to Sam’s cheek and caressed gently the perfect line of his cheekbones, jaw and then he touched Sam’s soft lips.  
  
“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice and he meant it.  
  
“You really enjoy making me uncomfortable, don’t you?” Sam said, but it sounded pleased.  
  
Dean closed the distance between them and looked deeply into those hazel eyes he’d come to like so much.  
  
“You are, seriously. Beautiful, I mean,” he whispered against Sam’s lips before licking them softly.  
  
“Well thank you, Mr. Not-so-bad-looking-yourself,” Sam smirked and kissed Dean deeply, wrapping his arms around him and pressing him even closer to Sam.  
  
They kissed for the longest time and Dean relished every second of it. He felt so strangely  _content_ in Sam’s presence, which was something, he had never felt before. Most of the things he felt about and around Sam were something he’d never dealt with before. Sam decided for some reason to give Dean a chance to be in his life, even if just for a week, and Dean was determined to do whatever it took to earn it.  
  
He went on his knees and sucked on the tip of Sam’s flushed cock, causing him to moan. Then he continued sucking and licking Sam’s length and gripped his hips tightly, when Sam started bucking involuntarily into his mouth.  
  
Sam’s hand on his head suddenly grabbed his hair tightly and Sam was coming into Dean’s mouth. He obediently swallowed every drop and stood back up in time to catch Sam, whose legs gave out.  
  
“Hang in there, big man, don’t comatose on me,” Dean chuckled.  
  
Sam seemed to have gathered himself back together, while Dean poured and rubbed shower gel all over him with a sponge. _An honest to god bath sponge!_ Another thing Dean only saw on TV until now.  
  
“Dude, I'm not a baby!” Sam laughed, but let Dean take care of him anyway.  
  
When Dean finished rinsing the soap off Sam’s body, he stepped out of the shower and held out his hand for Sam, who took it, but instead of following Dean out of the shower, he dragged him back in and this time it was Dean, who was pressed against the cold bathroom tiles.  
Sam used the same sponge to clean Dean up and just the thought of being touched by the same thing that was all over Sam’s body made him rock hard.  
  
Sam grinned, when he pressed his knee up between Dean’s thighs, which made Dean gasp.  
  
“So hard for me, huh?” he purred into Dean’s ear. “That’s so hot,” he continued and slowly curled his fingers around Dean’s cock. Dean moaned like a girl, even though he would deny it if Sam called him on it.  
  
Sam kissed his way down Dean’s chest and returned the favour Dean gave him moments ago.  
  
Of course, Dean’d had a few blowjobs in his life, but he was absolutely sure, that  _none_ of them were as mind blowing as this one. And Sam was taking his time, he always brought Dean on the top of pleasure, but right before Dean could come, he would stop and let him cool off again. And then, when he finally  _did_ let him come, Dean thought both his upper and downstairs brains would explode.  
  


-xXx-

  
  
They didn’t do much the whole weekend. They pretty much just ate, watched TV and made out or had sex. Dean was happy. At least, that’s what he thought happiness felt like. And also, for the first time in his life, he felt the thing they call ‘butterflies in a stomach’. He always got this feeling, whenever Sam blushed or gazed at him with those hazel eyes of his. It was funny, Sam had no problem fucking him against a wall, the dirtiest words falling from his mouth in the process, but he would still smile at him shyly, when their hands brushed while making breakfast.  
  
In the middle of Sunday night, Dean suddenly woke up from a bad dream. He didn't remember it, but it left him feeling hurt, lonely and completely confused. He couldn't see anything, but he knew he was alone. Where was Sam? Dean listened very carefully for any noise that would suggest someone else being there, but he got nothing.  
  
Suddenly, he was scared, that maybe Sam never happened, that maybe this was his mind playing tricks with him after the attack. He could be dying for all he knew. He felt his breath quicken in panic.  
  
 _Bullshit_ , he berated himself.  
  
He forced his breath to calm down, because although he couldn't really see anything in the dark, he could feel, that he wasn't in his bed or in hospital. Yeah, he was pretty sure he was in Sam’s bed. So where was Sam?  
  
He got up, reaching blindly for a wall to support him.  
  
“Sam?” he called out into the darkness.  
  
Then his feet stumbled over something on the floor, sheets or discarded clothes, maybe and he fell down, hitting his head pretty hard. The pain exploded white in his head, but he wasn't losing his conscience, so that must have been a good sign.  
  
He thought he heard running steps, but he wasn't sure. Then the light went on and the brightness almost burned his eyes out. The pain was so overwhelming, he wasn't even able to think straight. Someone held him up, wrapped arms around him and rocked him gently. Dean thought he heard someone repeat his name.  
  
“Dean? Dean! Please, talk to me! What happened?”  
  
The voice sounded distant. Dean tried to focus on the face in front of him. The pain was fading away and he could make out the face in front of him. Sam.  
  
“S-Sam?” Dean was almost back to his senses now and he found his ability to speak again. “What happened?”  
  
He looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for him and Sam being on the floor and Sam holding him with a concerned look on his face.  
  
“You tell me, man! I just went to take a leak and I heard you yelling. And when I came here, you were on the floor almost unconscious. And I could have sworn you looked at me like you didn't even know, who I was. Dean, what was it?”  
  
Dean’s memory finally caught up with him and he flushed in embarrassment, because honestly? Nothing happened, he just hit his head.  
  
“Nothing. I'm just clumsy, I guess,” he chuckled and checked his head. There was a bump forming, but no blood, so Dean figured he was fine.  
  
Sam didn't look entirely convinced, and the look he was giving Dean didn't change.  
  
“Maybe I should get you to hospital, just to check your head. You could have a concussion!”  
  
“No, that’s fine, I'm fine, Sam, really,” Dean said quickly. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Sam stood up, held a hand out to Dean and helped him on his feet.  
  
Dean was sure he was fine, but he stood up a little too quickly and his vision went dark, but that was something that happened to him all the time, when he didn't stand up carefully. Low blood pressure, or whatever. He partially sat, partially collapsed on the bed.  
  
“I'm still thinking the hospital would be a better idea,” Sam frowned.  
  
“I really am fine, don’t worry,” Dean laughed. “Don’t think that I'm some damaged goods, that-“  
  
He actually meant the ‘damaged goods’ part in a metaphorical kind of way, but the anger, that flashed in Sam’s eyes shut him up and made him back away from him a little.  
  
“How do I have to say it, so that it finally gets through your stubborn brain!” Sam growled.  
  
Dean was suddenly a little afraid, that he crossed some line he didn't know was there. Maybe he was right about Sam’s Mother Theresa complex and since he was  _paid_ to be here, he had no right to object to an offer to be taken care of. He looked up at Sam warily and saw him glaring furiously back.  
  
“You are not a  _thing_ to me! You’re not something I bought and will bring back to the shop once I'm done with it!” He yelled, sat down next to Dean and shook Dean’s shoulders a bit.  
  
“Hear me out, Dean! I'm begging you here; I really do care about you. Please, just stop seeing me as another customer paying you to be whatever they want you to be, if you can.”  
  
That wasn't really, what Dean expected, so he just gaped at him. Sam didn't look angry anymore, he looked just plain sad and it made Dean’s heart heavy.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said softly and put his hand on Sam’s thigh tentatively. “It’s just...I'm not used to being lucky, you know? I guess I'm having hard time believing it. But I believe  _you_.”  
  
Sam put his hand behind Dean’s neck, leaned in and looked into his eyes.  
  
“Tell me, Dean, do you think...could you ever...feel it too? What I feel for you? Or is this just your way out. I  _will_ help you, either way. I just need to know. The truth, please.”  
  
Dean blinked. He thought that was obvious.  
  
“I already do feel it. Don’t doubt it for a second. I'm in this with you.”  
  
His heart did a happy jump, when Sam smiled and kissed him softly.  
  
“Let’s go to sleep now,” Sam yawned. “Some of us got work tomorrow.”  
  
He scooted over to his side, pulled Dean down with him, and let him rest his head on his chest. Sam’s hand was drawing patterns on Dean’s back and his other hand was entwined with Dean’s. Dean loved the feeling of being loved and protected, even though he would still call anyone, who would call him on it, a liar.  
  
He felt Sam pressing a kiss to his temple.  
  
“Stop thinking, go to sleep.”  
  
It was strange how the kid seemed to be reading Dean’s mind. But he obeyed and let Sam’s steady heartbeat lull him to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

am never needed alarm clock to wake him up; he was used to wake up early on weekdays and late on the weekend. And this day he was especially grateful for that ability, because he could get up for work without waking Dean up.  
  
He was feeling a little guilty for leaving for work on the last day, before their deal was up, but he really didn't want to explain himself to his father and he was hoping Dean would stay even after the week was over.  
  
Before he could enter the boring space of his office, his secretary stopped him.  
  
“Your father called,” she told him without so much as glancing at him from her computer screen. “He said he hopes you haven’t forgotten your conference in Milan next week.”  
  
Sam slapped his forehead.  
  
“Of course I have!” he groaned.  
  
“Of course you have  _not_. You planned your flight a week ago. Your private jet is taking off on Sunday, 5 PM sharp, remember?”  
  
Sam had the best secretary in the world.  
  
“Thanks Jess, what would I do without you?”  
  
“Crash and burn?” she laughed softly and finally looked up at him and winked.  
  
Jessica had been Sam’s secretary for three years now and he wouldn't change her for the world. Things threatened to get a little awkward, when Jess had a crush on him in the beginning and he had to reject her, because he was playing for the other team. But not too long after that, she appeared with an engagement ring on her finger and ever since then she was his best ally against his father.  
  
He survived yet another day in the office and as he was leaving, he told Jessica he wouldn't be coming to work tomorrow. Jessica frowned, because she knew how much his father hated, when his sons seemed to be slacking on their work time, but he assured her it’s a one-time thing and she didn't object.  
  
He was walking home, when he spotted Dean outside the house, talking to some guy in a mail-company uniform. The mailman seemed a little younger than Sam. He was good looking and quite openly flirting with Dean! Sam knew the signs, the lips licking, hips rolling and leaning a little closer than necessary. And Dean was smiling at him and running his hand through his hair.  
  
Sam didn't like it. He felt a pinch of jealousy in his gut and just frowned at Dean, when he spotted Sam on the street and waved at him.  
  
“You got something for me?” he asked the mailman instead of greeting.  
  
He didn't actually mean to sound this hostile, but he sure as hell wasn't going to apologize.  
  
“Are you Mr. Winchester?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s me,” Sam said and ignored Dean’s raised eyebrow. He wasn't in an explaining mood either.  
  
“Then this is yours,” the mailman, Benny said his nametag, handed Sam a small package and a piece of paper, “Please, sign it here.”  
  
Sam did and opened the door to let Benny know that their conversation was over. And by their, he meant his and Dean’s.  
  
“Well, was nice talking to ya, Dean, I hope to see you around,” Benny flashed a smile at Dean.  
  
“Sure thing, nice meeting you too, see ya,” Dean waved back.  
  
As Dean stepped inside, Sam slammed the door behind them shut.  
  
“Sam?” Dean asked him, but the addressed only fumed past him to the kitchen.  
  
“What’s your problem, dude?” Dean threw his arms up and followed him. Sam couldn't believe it,  _he really didn't know_!  
  
“Nothing, why?” he said without looking at Dean as he unpacked his ordered cologne.  
  
“You’re all but steaming, man, what’s eating you?”  
  
“Gee, I don’t know Dean, maybe the little flirt of yours had something to do with it!” he exclaimed. Then he looked down to hide the blush on his face. Sometimes he hated the way his mouth was faster than his brain. And there would never be a time, when he wouldn't hate his cheeks for always getting red.  
  
Dean looked surprised at first and then he laughed.  
  
“Benny?” he said with an obvious disbelief. “Come on, Sam, you can’t be serious about that.”  
  
Sam just shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen.  
  
“Sam! Sheesh, you’re really acting like a girl. Would you stop and let me explain?”  
  
“Explain what?” Sam really did stop, right in front of his bathroom door, causing Dean to almost run into him and glared daggers at him from just feet away. “That while I'm at work making money for the both of us, you just go and flirt with everything that comes your way?”  
  
Then he looked away, because it finally hit him, why was he so angry in the first place.  
  
“Am I not good enough?” he added quietly.  
  
“No,” Dean said and gently put his hand on Sam’s face to make him look his way. “Nothing like that. I was just taking out the trash and met Benny, so we chatted a little and I asked him if he knew about some part time job I could take, so that you wouldn't have to make money  _for the both of us_ ,” he mocked Sam a little by using his own exact words. “He told me he thinks there’s still a place in his delivery company and then you showed up. Can’t believe you’re jealous of him,” Dean laughed. “Though it is kind of flattering.”  
  
Sam felt his cheeks burn red again and he had to roll his eyes at himself.  
  
“You’re either really stupid and blind or lying if you’re telling me that wasn't flirting,” Sam muttered, but he wasn't angry anymore. Not at Dean at least.  
  
“Oh, I'm not saying he wasn't trying,” Dean smirked and pulled Sam’s face closer, “But he never stood a chance,” he whispered against Sam’s lips before kissing them.  
  
“I'm gonna make you forget him,” Sam growled and pushed Dean through the door of his bedroom and onto his bed. It was smaller than Sam’s, but it would do.  
  
“Oh, you are?” Dean asked with a smug grin on his face, “I’d like to see you try, then.”  
  
Sam tore Dean’s shirt away angrily, ruining it completely. But he didn't care, it was his after all.  
  
They kissed almost violently, parting only to breathe or discard another piece of clothing. When they were fully naked, Sam straddled Dean, holding his hands firmly above his head, so that he could barely move. He started rubbing his erection against Dean’s; loving the whimpering sounds he was drawing out of him.  
  
“Shit, forgot the lube!” Sam said.  
  
“’s okay,” Dean smiled.  
  
Sam shook his head. The thought of the rough treatment Dean was used to crossed his mind and he had to frown. He wanted Dean’s life to be better with him. But Dean pulled him closer and grabbed his hand gently.  
  
“When I say it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said and then put two of Sam’s fingers into his mouth, sucking them and making them wet and slick.  
  
“You sure about this?”  
  
“Sure,” Dean nodded.  
  
Sam pressed one of the saliva-coated fingers into Dean. Dean hissed and Sam stopped moving the finger inside of him, until he relaxed again. He was taking his time and tried to prepare Dean as gently as possible, without any lube. Soon he had him all stretched out and ready.  
  
He positioned himself and kissed Dean’s mouth hungrily as he entered him. The heat and the tightness surrounding him were enough to turn his brain off and he started thrusting into Dean, who was moaning Sam’s name out loud. Dean came first and Sam came, when he felt Dean clenching around him. Sam rode them through their climaxes and then collapsed on the top of Dean, both men trying to catch their breaths.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked when he calmed enough to think straight. “This...this is real, right? You weren't faking it?”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Sam!” Dean exclaimed and rolled his eyes. “Would you stop being so freaking insecure? It’s kinda ruining the mood.”  
  
He pushed Sam off, picked up his discarded shirt, wiped the come off his stomach and tossed it at Sam.  
  
“Take a look. It’s all real.”  
  
Sam laughed nervously and followed Dean’s action, before tossing the shirt back on the floor.  
  
“Any more questions, Mr.  _Winchester_?” Dean asked with his brow raised.  
  
“Oh, right. That’s my dad’s way of keeping us safe. He says it’s best if no one really knows where we live. So this house is rented on a fake name,” Sam explained.  
  
“Cool. Like a secret agent,” Dean grinned and that made Sam laugh.  
  
They were silent for a moment and it was Dean who spoke first.  
  
“When you said ‘where  _we_ live’ you meant...”  
  
The question was simple and Dean’s tone was light, but it seemed to be carrying a hidden meaning. And even though Sam tried, he couldn't figure out what else could Dean mean by this.  
  
“Me and my brother,” he just answered truthfully, but judging by the way Dean’s smile faltered and his eyes looked away; it wasn't the answer, he wanted to hear.  
  
“I never knew you had a brother,” Dean said and somehow it sounded like an accusation to Sam.  
  
“Yeah, well, I do. We don’t really keep in touch, though. Outside of business, that is."  
  
“Oh,” Dean stated simply and turned away from Sam.  
  
“Is something wrong, Dean?” Sam knew that something  _was_ up, he just couldn't figure out what.  
  
“Nope. I just want to enjoy the last night I'm spending in this bed.”  
  
Sam gaped at Dean’s back. His heart clenched at that. He really had hoped Dean was in this for real and that he would stay even after their deal was up. He wondered if Dean didn't want to stay or if he thought, that it was Sam, who wanted him gone tomorrow night.  
  
“L-last?” he asked in a small voice.  
  
“Yeah, our week’s over tomorrow, remember?”  
  
“I do, I just thought...that maybe...” Sam wasn't sure he wanted to say it out loud. He didn't want to be any more pathetic than he already was.  
  
“Maybe what?” Dean turned around to face him. There was a glimpse of hope in his eyes.  
  
“Maybe you wanted to stay,” Sam said quietly.  
  
Dean’s face broke into a huge grin. He launched himself at Sam and kissed him.  
  
“That would be nice. I just needed you to say it. You know, to be sure we’re on the same page here.”  
  
Sam’s heart leaped and he threaded his fingers in Dean’s short hair. Dean’s green eyes were sparkling in the moonlight that crept in the room through the windows. He sighed and licked his lips nervously.  
  
“What is it?” Sam asked softly.  
  
“Nothing,” Dean looked down, but Sam pulled his chin back up and raised his eyebrow.  
  
“It’s just that I don’t know how to tell Riddley. My, uh, boss,” Dean winced. “I mean how do you break a contract like  _that_.”  
  
“We’ll figure something out,” Sam promised and kissed his lips gently. “Promise.”  
  
Dean smiled and nuzzled his neck. Sam’s hands were travelling down Dean’s back. Dean slowly pushed Sam down on his back and then climbed on the top of him, while deeply exploring each other’s mouth. Then the moment was broken, when Dean pulled away from Sam to yawn. He wanted to continue the make out session, but Sam pushed him off with a soft laughter.  
  
“We've had enough today.”  
  
He spooned Dean from behind and shifted a little got at as comfortable as he could. Dean just smiled sleepily and dozed off in short time.  
  
They fell asleep with tangled legs and Dean’s head making Sam’s arm numb, but he didn't mind. He just hoped it wasn't the last time they fell asleep like this.


	7. Chapter 7

When Dean woke up, yawned and stretched himself. He wasn't surprised to find Sam’s side of the bed empty, but he was still slightly disappointed. He was hoping they would figure out how to approach Riddley together.  
  
He took an extra time showering and dressing up. Sam was in work and Dean wasn't sure if he would make it home, before he had to leave. Dean was just about to get sad, because Sam left without even leaving a note or anything, when he heard TV from the living room.  
  
He peeked in and saw Sam, whose dimples were showing in a big smile he was flashing at Dean.  
  
Dean almost threw his dignity out of the window, when he wanted to jump on the couch and into Sam’s arms, but decided against it.  
  
“Why aren't you in work?” he said instead, leaning on the doorframe.  
  
“I can always go if you want,” Sam pouted, his smile disappeared, but his eyes were still happy. “But I thought you would want your money.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened.  
  
“You've already paid me, haven’t you?”   
  
“Er, no?” Sam was obviously confused. “I did leave some money for you, while I was at work, but that wasn't it.”  
  
“Are you kidding me? That’s more than I would have made if I was on the street the whole week!”  
  
“Well you’re worth more than that,” Sam smiled and reached for his wallet, but Dean stopped him.  
  
“No, keep it,” he said firmly. “I'm going to give Riddley his share, but I don’t want any more money from you.”  
  
Sam’s dimples were back and he was blushing, obviously pleased by the answer.  
  
“Well, then go,” he said. For a moment, Dean was scared, that Sam was getting rid of him, but then he was pulling him close and whispering into his ear: “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”  
  
That was all the reassurance Dean needed. He kissed Sam quickly and walked out of the house. The world outside was more beautiful than he remembered it. It felt like the sun was shining brighter and birds were singing happier than ever.  
  
“Dean!” he heard Sam’s voice yell his name and turned around to see Sam fastening his belt and without a jacket running his way.  
  
“You didn't think I was letting you go alone, did you?” he frowned at Dean, when he finally reached him and they went back to get Sam’s car.  
  
“Well you told me to go, so I thought-, I mean-“  
  
“So you thought I was sending you back there just like that? What if you- What if they...” Sam trailed off and looked down.  
  
“Hey,” Dean touched Sam’s cheek. “It’s going to be alright. I'm not so worried now that I know you have my back,” he smiled at Sam. He wasn't nearly as sure as he said, but he didn't want Sam to worry too much.  
  
They talked about what Dean should say to Riddley and they agreed that maybe Dean should start leaving him in small doses. So for now he should just tell him, that Sam wants him to keep him company a little while longer.  
  
Sam stopped on the edge of the block, where Riddley’s club was.  
  
“Be right back,” Dean smiled, kissed Sam on his cheek and got out. The block was quite safe in the middle of the day, but he understood why Sam didn't want to take that risk with his over-expensive Chevy.  
  
He got into the club quite easily, nodded at Riddley’s bodyguards, who knew him, so they didn't even try to stop him. He knocked on Riddley’s door and walked in.  
  
“Hey there, my long lost child,” Riddley smiled at   
Dean.  
  
“Hey Riddley, missed me?” he screwed his face into a grin.  
  
“Of course I did. What can I do for you?”  
  
Dean handed over the money to him.  
  
“Not bad, not bad at all,” Riddley nodded appreciatively, when he finished counting. “If this is ten percent of it, you made yourself quite a fortune,” he gave Dean a once over, “and you look good.”  
  
Dean knew Riddley probably assumed, that Sam was going to torture him the whole week. He didn't blame him, he himself thought the exact same thing, after he learned Sam’s last name.   
  
“Yeah, it wasn't so bad,” Dean said quickly. “That’s why I wanna stay with him a bit longer.”  
  
Riddley raised his eyebrow and looked at him questioningly. Dean felt his mind being read like a book. But Riddley didn't really care, what Dean was thinking, he was  _calculating_ him. Thinking if it paid off to not have him in the streets a week longer, in compare to what Sam was paying. This was one of the reasons, Dean gave him much more than 10% of his money.  
  
“Okay,” Riddley said finally and Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “I still expect my share on the end of the week, though,” Riddley added.  
  
“Of course,” Dean nodded quickly, said goodbye to Riddley and all but ran out of the club, before his luck had the chance to turn into bad.  
  
He got back into Sam’s car, which was still waiting for him.  
  
“So? How did it go?” Sam asked eagerly.  
  
“Good,” Dean smiled, “But it’s gonna get costly. Until we figure out a way to break me free, at least.”  
  
He turned his face to Sam.  
  
“That is, if you wanna keep me, of course.”  
  
“Who’s insecure now,” Sam scoffed, but squeezed Dean’s hand gently before starting the car.  
  
Dean felt amazing. Sure, there was still a lot to worry about, but he could leave that for later.  
  


-xXx-

  
“Hey, how about we celebrate this over a glass of champagne in some fancy restaurant?” Dean asked playfully, when they were back at Sam’s place.  
  
“Naw, I don’t wanna go out,” Sam frowned.  
  
“Come on, Sam, it’ll be nice! Like a date. We haven’t been on a proper date, yet.  _I_ haven’t been on a real date yet.” Dean tried convincing him.  
  
“I really don’t wanna go,” Sam argued.  
  
“But why?”  
  
“I said in work I was sick, I can’t just pop up at a restaurant, looking completely healthy and especially with a date.”  
  
Dean started to feel that Sam was just making up excuses.  
  
“But Sam-“  
  
“I said no!” Sam said harshly and then held out his wallet to Dean. “If you really want to go that badly, take this and go.”  
  
That hurt. Sam made Dean feel like a charity-case and he hated it. It wasn't fair, even more so, that he just handed most of his money to Riddley to be able to stay with Sam. He shut his mouth and walked out of their living room to his bedroom.  
  
He didn't know what had gotten into Sam. Maybe he was pushing too hard. But then again, why Sam couldn't tell him the real reason? Maybe...maybe he was ashamed of him. He didn't want to be seen in public with him. That was the most reasonable explanation, but it didn't hurt any less than not knowing.  
  
It didn't take Sam too long to knock on his door, but it was still longer than Dean would have liked.  
  
“Hey there,” he said with an apologetic smile.  
  
Dean just glared at him.  
  
“They’re playing ‘The Ring’ on TV tonight and I hate watching horrors alone. I even made popcorn!” Sam tried again.  
  
Dean kept glaring. Sam was cute and all, but he wasn't gonna get off the hook just by smiling and making food. Not this time anyway.  
  
“Okay, fine,” Sam sighed and sat on the bed next to Dean. “I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have pulled the ‘I hold the money’ card, it was low and lame and I'm truly sorry.”  
  
Dean raised his eyebrow. He admired Sam’s ability to own up to his mistakes, actually. But he was too proud to forgive him just like that. Officially, at least.  
  
“Truth is I don’t go out a lot and I just thought we would stay put and, you know, have a good time, but you kept insisting on going out and just wouldn't take no for an answer. And I blew up for no reason, for that I'm sorry. Can you forgive me now?” Sam looked at Dean with puppy eyes and Dean found all his anger and sulkiness being washed away by that look.  
  
“Fine. Let’s watch your movie, you wuss,” he got up, but before they walked out of his bedroom, he turned to Sam one more time.  
  
“But don’t say things like that to me again.”  
  
“I’ll try my best, scout’s honour,” Sam held up his fingers in the gesture.  
  
As it turned out, Dean was just as much of a girl as Sam was, when it came to scary movies. They sat wrapped in each other, flinching with every jump-scare, but none of them really felt scared. Not when the other held them close.


	8. Chapter 8

am was sitting behind his desk, reading some stock report and smiling to himself. Things have been more than great with Dean. He found himself a job and it felt as though they were a couple since high school, and not like they just met almost two weeks ago.  
  
There was still one more step to make to become official though. Dean had to meet his family. There’s nothing Sam dreaded more, because his family was just plain scary.  
He could still remember the day he brought home his first boyfriend along with the news, that he was gay. He thought his father would disown him right there. He probably didn't only thanks to Gabriel, his older brother.  
  
They had a weird relationship, he and his brother. Most of the time, they didn't even talk. The only reason Sam would call him was to ask him for help on some business matter and he only heard from Gabe, when he needed help covering up a potential scandal. And then of course on family gatherings. He knew his brother was always there for him, but somehow, they never found a way to be brothers on daily basis. Probably their father’s fault.  
  
Gabriel was the heir to the throne of Wesson’s Industries. And their father sent him to all the schools he needed to be good at it. He wasn't really harder on him than he was on Sam, but Sam was a little bit freer with his life choices. Gabriel’s life was pretty much directed by their father. He was mostly a good son, but he found his ways of defying their father. He was a party animal, especially when he was in college and Sam had to cover for him countless of times, so that their father wouldn't find it. And then there was his wife, Lucinda, an ex-junkie super model. Dad almost went mad, when Gabriel informed him of their engagement, but Lucinda proved herself a good media-friendly wife, so he let it go  
.  
It encouraged Sam to come out with his sexual orientation. But not even Gabriel could save Sam from their father’s rage. He didn't really take their father’s side in the fight, but he didn't side with Sam either.  
  
There was no talking back to their father. No one ever dared to. The only one, who knew his way with him, was their mother and she was long gone. After she died, Don Wesson became even more insufferable. That’s why Sam moved out as soon as had the money for it. Unlike his brother, whose villa looked almost as expensive as their family mansion, he picked an inconspicuous house and he tried to fit in as well as he could. He was hoping to get away from the life that his last name brought at him, but then his father informed him, that he started a new branch of his company and that Sam was supposed to be the director of it. And because he didn’t have a stable job at that time, nor a valid excuse, he ended up right where he wanted to be the least; under his father’s control.  
  
“Hey there,  _boss_ ,” a voice snapped him out of his thoughts.  
  
Sam looked up to see Dean’s face with a huge smile on it. Panic overcame him. If someone found out, who Dean was and tipped the media off...  
  
The media barely knew he existed, because he was keeping himself on the straight and narrow, but they were always looking for people to slip...  
  
“Dean, what the hell? What are you doing here?”  
  
Dean’s smile faded.  
  
“Well it’s nice to see you too. I'm working, can’t you see?”  
  
That was when Sam noticed the mail-company uniform.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Sam felt a little ashamed of his behaviour towards Dean, so he got up and hugged him. “Of course I'm happy to see you.”  
  
Dean smiled again and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.  
  
“What’s taking you so long, Dean? We have other clients to get to-oh, hi Sam!” Benny shouted as he came through Sam’s door, but stopped, when he spotted him.  
  
“Benny?” Sam could barely hide his dissatisfaction behind a fake smile as he shook hands with him.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Benny asked.  
  
“Working,” Sam spat out, but then he remembered, that to Benny, he was a Winchester. “Mr. Wesson is my boss. He’s not here at the moment and I'm in charge of his matters during his absence.”  
  
Sam didn't even know why he had to sound so posh just to remind Benny, who was the higher ranked one here. He just knew he didn't like the thought of him spending too much time alone with Dean.  
  
“Okay, then take this package, please,” Benny handed him a form and a huge envelope.  
  
“Hey Benny,” Dean said, “Can you go ahead? I’ll be down in a minute.”  
  
Benny seemed obviously displeased, but nodded and walked away.  
  
“Why didn't you tell me you’re working with  _him?_ ” Sam demanded angrily.  
  
“Wow, you really don’t like him,” Dean laughed and raised hands in a mock surrender.  
  
“Ok, I confess, newbies always get a supervisor for the first month of their service to help them and explain if they need help. Benny volunteered to be mine.”  
  
“I'm sure he had no hidden agenda,” Sam snorted. He knew he was probably being ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. When it came to Dean, reasonable didn't work for Sam.  
  
“Now I have to be afraid to even let you go to work every day. Every day!” he exclaimed.  
  
“Hey,” Dean said softly, reaching for Sam and pulling him closer. “You don’t have to worry. Do you trust me?”  
  
“Of course I trust you,” Sam sighed and looked into Dean’s eyes.” I don’t trust  _him_.”  
  
“He’s harmless, I promise,” Dean smiled.” And if he ever tries anything, I know how to turn a guy down,” he winked.  
  
Sam smiled back and wanted to kiss Dean, but that was exactly the moment Jessica decided to step into the office. He practically jumped and quickly pulled away from Dean. He saw Dean’s frown and avoided his eyes.  
  
“I'm sorry to interrupt,” she said without even looking up from the papers in her hands. Sam felt the blood rushing into his cheeks.   
  
“I just wanted to make sure you had everything set up for your flight to Milan on Sunday.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I was finished here anyway. Goodbye,  _Mr. Wesson_ ,” Dean said leaving the office.  
  
From the tone of his voice, Sam knew he was upset and pissed and he was sorry, but he had his reasons. He would talk to Dean, when he got home. But right now, he couldn't afford anyone making conclusions.  
  
“Troubles in paradise?” Jess smiled.  
  
Sam glared at her.  
  
“Okay, okay, I'm minding my own business,” she laughed. “Do you want me to add another passenger to the flight?”  
  
Sam thought about that for a second. He wanted nothing more than to take Dean with him. He also knew that if he did, he would ruin any chance for Dean of ever being accepted by his father.  
  
“No, thank you.”  
  
She raised her eyebrow in disagreement, but said nothing and walked out to leave Sam alone to his thoughts.  
  


-xXx-

  
  
When Sam got home, Dean was already there, as usual. What was not usual was that instead of cooking or at least setting up the table for a take-away dinner, Dean sat at the table with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass that he was drinking from. He didn't seem to have drunk too much so far, though, but still enough to affect him, though.  
  
“Dean? Are you alright?”  
  
Dean shot him an angry look. Sam approached him slowly, took the glass and the bottle out of his hands and pushed them away.  
  
“Come on, tell me,“ he took another chair and sat next to Dean.  
  
“Why didn't you tell me we’re going to Milan on Sunday?”  
  
“Dean...” Sam sighed. He didn't know Dean was going to take it so personally, but then again, he drank enough to get emotional.  
  
“That’s because we aren't, right?  _You_ are,” he looked into Sam’s eyes, but it felt as though he was looking for answers in his very soul.  
  
“Dean, listen to me-“Sam wanted to explain himself, but was cut off.  
  
“I don’t want to listen to you!” Dean yelled to his face. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses! I thought you wanted this, Sam, I thought you wanted  _me!_ But today, in your office...” he trailed off, stood up and walked past Sam to lean against the couch, with his head bowed. It nearly broke Sam’s heart, when he realized Dean was fighting tears.  
  
“I hate to be your dirty little secret,” Dean didn't yell anymore, but the pain in his voice was much worse for Sam to bear. He never wanted to hurt Dean.  
  
“But that’s exactly what I am, right?” Dean continued. “Something to be ashamed of, something to lock at home and hide from the world. If...if that’s the case, then please, Sam, please , let me go. I don’t want it, not like this.”  
  
The last part was barely a whisper, before Dean all but ran out of the room to hide his tears from Sam, but it was the one, that hurt the most.  
  
It physically hurt Sam to see Dean like this, especially because it was Sam’s fault and it was wrong. He wasn't ashamed of Dean. He was in fact trying to protect him. Living with a Wesson wasn't an easy task.  
  
He knocked on Dean’s bedroom door, wondering how many times he will have to do that. It seemed like he’d been screwing up a lot with Dean.  
  
Dean looked away, when he saw him come in.  
  
“So, should I start packing?” he asked quietly.  
  
Sam quickly made his way over and hugged Dean tightly.  
  
“No, of course not,” he whispered into Dean’s hair and rubbed soothing circles into Dean’s back, when Dean started to tremble and sob.   
  
“Shh, ‘s okay, look at me, Dean, come on. Sit down and let me explain this.”  
  
Dean let reluctantly go of Sam’s shirt he’d been clutching and sat on the edge of his bed, still unable to meet Sam’s eyes.  
  
Sam wiped away the few tears, that managed to escape from Dean’s eyes and tilted his head up to make Dean look at him.  
  
“I'm definitely not ashamed of you, alright? Don’t ever think that. It’s...the reason I'm hiding you away, is my family.”  
  
Dean seemed confused.  
  
“There’s this rule in the Wesson family, you see? I can’t show myself in public with anyone, until they've met my family. I'm happy with you, like this, you know? Just you and me. But once they get their hands on you, they’re gonna start digging, they’ll change you to their image, so that you’re appropriate for me and I really wanted to spare you that for as long as I could.”  
  
“You don’t want me to meet your family?”  
  
“Trust me, you don’t want to meet them. Or my dad, at least.”  
  
Dean touched Sam’s cheek.  
  
“But I want to be a part of your life, Sam. How can I do that if you-“  
  
“You will meet them, okay? But don’t say I never warned you. Wessons are no happy family.”  
  
“When are you coming back from Milan?” Dean sighed. He seemed reconciled with the idea of Sam leaving.  
  
“Tuesday morning,” Sam said and hugged Dean even tighter. “I really wanted you to come, you know? I even considered breaking the rules for you. But if I did, they would've never even given you a chance and I didn't want that. Please, try to understand. I'm doing this for you, for us. Not in spite of you,” he whispered and hoped with his heart Dean would hear him.  
  
“I understand,” Dean nodded and kissed Sam’s mouth.  
  
He tasted like whiskey and tears and the kiss was a little desperate, but Sam liked it anyway.  
  
“You do realize you’re leaving me with Benny for two days, right?” Dean laughed bitterly.  
  
Sam frowned.  
  
“You only work on Monday, no?”  
  
“Yeah, but Benny asked me to join him and a couple of his friends for a few glasses. I was gonna refuse, but then I heard about Milan and figured I didn't have other plans for Sunday night anyway.”  
  
Sam definitely didn't like it and he was seriously considering smuggling Dean into Italy in his bag.  
  
“Hey, I'm gonna be faithful, I promise,” Dean smiled, when he saw the look on Sam’s face. “Same goes to you, though. I heard Italians are quite the lovers. Don’t you dare trying to find out if that’s true.”  
  
Sam laughed and gave Dean a peck on lips.  
  
“You’re the only one for me, you know that.”  
  
“So are you,” Dean whispered ever so quietly, that Sam doubted he was even supposed to hear it. But he did and it made his heart swell.  
  
“Come on, we still got two full nights before I leave,” Sam grinned mischievously and pushed them both further on the bed.  
  
“You’re such a slut,” Dean laughed, but went along with it.  
  
Sam was happy to hear Dean laugh again. He was determined to make his life as pleasant as possible, before he left. Pun intended.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean got up very early on Tuesday morning. He wanted to set everything up to be perfect, when Sam got back. He even asked for a day off in work. Benny said he’d cover for him. He kind of owed him, after Dean had to play to be his date on the Sunday night. He couldn't wait to see Sam’s face, when he’d tell him all about that...  
  
He left that part out, when they spent the night before on the phone, because Dean felt like he was living a dream and didn't want to ruin the mood.  
  
He was still thinking about what Sam told him about his family. He was well aware of the warning Sam gave him, but Dean still wanted to meet them. He wanted to make that final step and become a part of Sam’s life officially.  
  
He took a shower, put his best home clothes on and even used a generous amount of aftershave. Then he proceeded to set up the table with some croissants, donuts and coffee. He was just halfway done cleaning the house for the fifth time (hey, guy’s gotta keep himself busy somehow), when he heard someone turning a key in the lock.  
  
Sam looked tired and worn out as he dragged his bag through the door, but his face lit up, when he saw Dean waiting for him.  
  
“I thought you’d be at work,” he said and closed the distance between them to kiss Dean deeply. “It’s so good to see you,” he smiled against Dean’s mouth.  
  
“Took a day out, wanted to see you. I missed you so much,” Dean admitted.  
  
“I missed you more,” Sam kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth and then yawned.  
  
“Didn't get enough sleep on the plane?” Dean laughed.  
  
“Didn't get  _any_ sleep at all. Not even last night,” Sam frowned.  
  
“Aww, you poor thing,” Dean mocked him, but took him gently by the arm and led him to Sam’s bedroom. Well,  _their_ bedroom, since Dean didn't slept in his own anymore. “Been partying much?”  
  
“Oh, I wish,” Sam scoffed. “No, I don’t need to sleep, I'm fine,” he protested, as Dean pushed him on their bed.  
  
“Of course you don’t, princess,” Dean took off his boots and covered him with comforter.  
  
“Maybe just a minute...,” was all Sam managed to say, before he drifted off.  
  
Dean kissed his forehead and left the bedroom to give Sam some rest. He waited two nights and two full days for him. He might as well wait a couple hours more.  
  


-xXx-

  
  
Six hours later, Sam made his way out of the bedroom. He looked even worse than before.  
  
“Dude, you’re a mess!” Dean laughed.  
  
“Fuck you,” Sam said with a smile.  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Was that an invitation?”  
  
“Gee, I just woke up!” Sam sat next to him on the couch. “And I woke up lonely,” he pouted.  
  
“Oh come here, you big girl,” Dean pulled Sam and lay down, so that he had Sam’s head on his chest.  
  
“It’s so quiet and peaceful here,” Sam sighed. “No papers, no self-centred business man talking about stocks, no father to look down at me...”  
  
Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair gently. Then Sam’s stomach rumbled.  
  
“You hungry?”  
  
“Starving,” Sam answered.  
  
“Why don’t you say something, idiot,” Dean said mock angrily, stood up and dragged Sam to the table.  
  
“You made me waste coffee on you this morning,” Dean said as he quickly prepared sandwiches. “Now I have to make you another one.”  
  
“Hey, I can do it myself,” Sam tried to get up, but Dean pushed him back to his chair.  
  
“Not today,” he kissed Sam’s cheek quickly and went back to making lunch.  
  
They sat across each other and talked about nothing and everything, while they ate.  
  
Dean caught himself not really listening to what Sam was saying as much as just to his voice. Sam was talking about some economy stuff and Dean didn't care about that anyway. And Sam didn't seem to care either, because he made that topic really short.  
  
“Enough about me,” Sam said finally. “How have  _you_ been?”  
  
“Oh I was great! Almost didn't have to miss you. Spent last night on the phone with this amazing guy... I wish you could meet him, you’d like him,” Dean winked.  
  
Sam blushed slightly. Dean almost didn't want to ruin the moment, but hey, Sam deserved to be teased a little, after he left him here all by himself.  
  
“And I went out with Benny and his friends the night before that and got to pretend to be his boyfriend,” he said matter-of-factly.  
  
Sam’s reaction didn't disappoint him the slightest. He frowned and his hazel eyes darkened with flash of sheer possessiveness.  
  
“You  _what_?” his tone was dangerously low and underlined with jealousy.  
  
Dean tried to hide his smirk, but he was pretty sure the self-satisfaction was showing anyway.  
  
“Well he sort of told his friends, that I would be coming with him as his date and forgot to mention that until it was too late for me to back off. So I told him I would do that, but it was just a one-time favour and if his friends asked about me later, he’s supposed to tell them it didn't work out between us,” Dean answered truthfully. He got what he wanted from Sam, there was no point in torturing him any further.  
  
“And what did you...you know...how far did you have to take it?”  
  
Sam’s imagination was obviously doing the torturing for Dean. He had to give him credit for making a pretty believable expression of indifferent curiosity, but Dean knew better.  
  
“Oh you know, just like any couple on their first date,” he shrugged and smiled, when Sam’s frown deepened. “I laughed at his jokes, our hands and legs sometimes brushed ‘on accident’, stuff like that. Nothing that could be considered cheating,” he smiled at Sam. “And I let him pay for the drinks,” he smirked.  
  
Sam actually smiled at that, so Dean considered that a win.  
  
They were sitting too far away from each other to actually touch, so it wasn't until Sam’s foot started caressing Dean’s leg up to his knee and back, that he realized just how much he missed Sam.  
  
Two nights. Two freaking nights without so much as a touch of his hand or smell of his skin. Dean was so deep in this thing with Sam; he had to roll his eyes.  
  
“Don’t like it?” Sam frowned again.  
  
“Nah, that wasn't for you,” Dean smiled and got up to hover over Sam for a moment. “Was for me. For being this easy.”  
  
He sat down on Sam’s lap and kissed him gentle and easy, but long enough for his lungs to start burning.  
  
“I missed you too,” Sam smiled to the kiss, but Dean was already pulling him up on his feet and this time kissing him hard and possessive.  
  
Sam tasted after coffee and Dean really hoped he’d drunk enough to wake up completely, because Dean wouldn't hold himself back any longer.  
  
He pulled himself up on the kitchen desk and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist. He kept on kissing him while he got rid of his shirt. Luckily, Sam seemed to respond just as eagerly. Dean felt his own shirt being lifted up and over his head.  
  
Dean kept one of his hands in Sam’s hair and let the other roam over his chest.  
  
“God,” he panted softly into Sam’s mouth. “Missed this.”  
Sam chuckled and pulled him off the desk. Still kissing, they made their way to the bedroom.  
  
Dean slammed Sam against a wall, once they were in the room and pulled Sam’s pants off roughly, vaguely aware that he shouldn't ruin them, because they were probably really expensive, but not caring enough to check. Sam kicked them off, their mouths never breaking apart.  
  
Dean pressed his thigh against Sam’s groin, making him gasp, while bruising his already swollen lips in another crushing kiss.  
  
“Sam...Oh God, Sammy...,” Dean breathed out, when Sam’s hand slipped inside his pants to cup him through the boxers.  
  
Sam froze, pulled away a little and frowned.  
“Sammy?” he asked.  
  
“What? Don’t like it?”  
  
“Dunno, it’s just...my brother calls me that and it’s kinda annoying. And weird to hear it during sex,” he chuckled. “But I guess I like it, coming from you.”  
  
“Good,” Dean grinned and grabbing Sam’s waist, he led them to their bed.  
  
He pushed him onto it and leaned in to kiss Sam’s neck, caressing his soft skin with his teeth as well. He kissed his way down to Sam’s nipple and stroke it with his tongue gently. He enjoyed the way Sam’s muscles felt under his touch.  
  
Sam threw his head back in a breathless moan and tugged on Dean’s pants.  
  
“Off,” he commanded and Dean chuckled, but undid them obediently.  
  
They were grinding their groins against each other and Sam was all hands, moaning softly, while Dean was sucking on his earlobe, whispering dirty things into Sam’s ear.  
  
When they finally got rid of their boxers, their fully flushed members were already leaking and Dean brought them both together and started stroking them slowly.  
  
“Stop teasing,” Sam whimpered under him. He tried to move, but Dean was steady on the top of him.  
  
Dean just grinned and didn't change a thing about his actions. Soon he had a whimpering and begging mess under him.  
  
“What is it, that you want, Sammy? Can’t really hear you over all the moaning,” he whispered into Sam’s ear while reaching for lube.  
  
“P-Please-,” Sam struggled to speak coherently. “I need you, Dean. I need you inside me.”  
  
Dean loved that he was able to do this to Sam. The smug, classy, rich boss of a big successful company was writhing under him and begging to be fucked. Who has that?  
  
“I guess, since you’re begging so nicely, I could give you this,” he said as he pushed one lube-coated finger through the tight ring of muscles.  
  
Sam sort of punched his shoulder. Well, he did raise his arm up and touched Dean’s with his fingers curled into a fist.  
  
“Stop being an asshole!”  
  
“Speaking of assholes...,” Dean laughed and wriggled his finger inside Sam a little.  
  
“Bastard! Just fuck me, will you?!” Sam was grinding back against Dean’s finger.  
  
“Wow, so romantic,” Dean smirked as he added another finger.  
  
Sam mumbled something unintelligent. Dean stretched him thoroughly, his fingers brushing against Sam’s prostate occasionally and Dean watched Sam’s eyes roll inside of his head, whenever he did.  
  
Dean felt his own cock aching to be buried inside Sam, but he wanted him to beg for it. So he just kept hitting Sam’s prostate with his fingers, until Sam couldn't take it anymore.  
  
“Get your freaking dick in me or I swear I'm gonna break your face!” he yelled in frustration.  
  
Dean laughed, but since he himself wanted nothing as badly as that, he positioned himself over Sam and thrust in.  
  
“Yes! Oh God, yes!” he heard Sam screaming as he was slamming into him fast and hard. He felt his orgasm building in his gut, so he started pumping Sam’s cock in the rhythm of the thrusting.  
  
“DEAN!” Sam yelled in a voice Dean hadn't heard before as he shot his load all over their bellies and he himself was coming deep inside Sam not long after.  
  
Dean kissed Sam’s neck and buried his face into it, inhaling the smell of blissed out Sam. He licked the sweaty skin and then sucked on it, until it left a bruise.  
  
Then he slowly moved his hands up Sam’s chest and tangled them into his hair. He kissed him gently, savouring the harsh breaths and quiet sounds he was swallowing from him.  
  
He felt Sam’s hands on his head, pulling him away, so that they were looking into each other’s eyes.  
  
“Wow,” Sam whispered. “Just wow, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Dean smirked and fell down on his side, next to Sam. “And that’s only been two days. Imagine your next trip lasted a week. We’d fuck our brains out,” he chuckled.  
  
“You know,” Sam said softly and raised his eyes to smile at him,” the next time, you might be coming with me.”  
  
Dean shot him a non-understanding look.  
  
“The word spread around my family, that I'm not living alone anymore. They want to meet you.”  
  
Sam was looking at him rather carefully, as though Dean was supposed to freak out, but Dean’s heart fluttered happily over the news.  
  
“That is if you want to meet  _them_. If you think it’s too early, I’ll just postpone it for later.”  
  
“Are you kidding me?  _Of course_ , I wanna meet them!”  
  
Sam pulled a face, like he knew that this was exactly what Dean would say, but he hoped he wouldn't.  
  
“Good then, how does Friday evening sound for you? We’re invited for dinner. And by invited I mean, that only death can get us out of it,” he added with a scoff.  
  
“They’re going to hate me, right?” Dean asked tentatively. “I mean because of my history and everything.”  
  
Sam caught his hand and squeezed it gently.  
  
“They’re not gonna make it easy, yeah. They’ll try to freak you out. But I’ll be there, right there with you. And once you've passed the first test, you’re pretty much safe.”  
  
Dean smiled, the anxiety and happiness fighting for dominance inside of him. Sam rested his forehead against Dean’s and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.  
  
“I'm gonna take a shower. Care to join?”  
  
“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean winked.  
  
And with that, he let himself forget about meeting the Wesson family for a while. Friday’s far away after all.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean Smith’s childhood had been rather short. His mother died in a car accident, when he was eight and his dad just never got past it. He started drinking really heavily. He cared about Dean, Dean knew he did, it was for him after all, that his dad only drank through the night and in the day he struggled to keep their life going.  
  
But his liver gave up and, when Dean was fourteen, his father died. It didn't really surprise Dean, but he still wasn't ready for it. They snatched him into some Home for Abandoned Children and he would have probably stayed there, if it weren't for the bunch of bullies that lived there first. They never really did anything to him, but their threats were enough to make Dean run away.  
  
He tried living on the streets, even was on a good way to become a great pick-pocket and thief, when a guy noticed him and told him about a way his ‘pretty little ass’ could help him get some money. It was exactly the kind of guy you warn your children about, but no one ever warned Dean. Plus he could really use the money.  
  
He grew up on the streets, his pretty face and well-built body helping him make his way through the circles, until Riddley stumbled upon him and took him under his wings. He was about twenty at that time. When you belonged to Riddley, it meant something. And after six years with him, Dean got so comfortable in the routine, that he let his guards down and let himself get beaten up by a bunch of suck-ass-muggers. But that belonged to the street life.  
  
He never thought he would know anything else, until he met Sam, who turned his world upside down. So, here he was, standing in front of the main door to Wesson’s mansion, his knees shaking and the man of his dreams adjusting his tie.  
  
“You look like death, man,” Sam chuckled, but added in a softer tone “it’s gonna be okay, we’ll make it, you and I.”  
  
Dean nodded hesitantly and took a deep calming –and not really working- breath as Sam rang the bell.  
  
After just a couple of seconds, a butler opened the door and invited them in.  
  
 _A butler? They really have their own butler? Oh god, Dean, what have you gotten yourself into..._  
  
But before he had the time to really freak out over the fact, that Sam’s father has his own servants, they entered the dining room and his heart just stopped.  
  
There they all were; the famous Wesson family. Don Wesson sitting in the head of the big table, his elder son, Sam’s brother Gabriel and his wife Lucinda (Dean could totally understand why she was a model or what Gabriel liked about her) sitting across two empty chairs, that were apparently waiting for them.  
  
“Good to see you, people,” Sam smiled, but it seemed kind of forced. “This is Dean.”  
  
They all shook hands with him, but the both men kept glaring at him with hostility. Only Lucinda gave him somewhat sympathetic smile.  
  
They ate the dinner and it was delicious, but Dean couldn't really seem to find his appetite. He just concentrated on giving the best impression. All three Wessons mostly did the talking, sometimes they asked him something and he tried his best to answer. Then he caught Lucinda’s gaze and the little tug of her lips showed him, that she knew exactly what he was going through. Talking to her was easy, so he loosened up a little.  
  
That was until she smiled politely on her husband and asked him to get her a glass of water. The servants obviously weren't supposed to be around, when the nobility ate. Dean excused himself to go to the bathroom. He was just walking out, when Gabriel nodded at him to join him in the kitchen. Dean braced himself and followed him.  
  
“Help me with those plates, will you?” Gabriel smiled and pointed at some plates with all kinds of fruits. Probably dessert round number two. He felt Gabriel eyeing his suspiciously and watching his every move.  
  
“What is it that you do again?” he asked finally.  
  
“I, err, working in a mail company,” he had to swallow the sir that was threatening to slip out of his mouth with the rest of the words.  
  
“A mailman, huh?” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.  
  
Dean swallowed over the lump that had appeared in his throat, but nodded. They agreed with Sam, that they wouldn't really lie to his family about his history, but they would try to hide the full truth as long as they could. And Gabriel’s interrogation wasn't helping.  
  
Sam’s older brother seemed to be satisfied for the moment, though, but then suddenly his face was hard and his voice ice cold.  
  
“I knew I've seen your face before! You’re one of Riddley’s boys!”  
  
Dean felt the blood drain from his face.  
  
“You little shit!” Gabriel’s face suddenly changed from the ice-cold ever-so-professional-heir of the richest family to pure disgust and hatred.  
  
“What are you doing with my brother? He doesn't know, does he? You fed him some shit and you have him wrapped around your little finger just to get as much money as you can from him, huh?”  
  
Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, but Gabriel never let him speak.  
  
“Or did he just hire you to be his date tonight? You know, either way, don’t get too comfortable. Because once Sam gets bored of you, and he  _will_ , don’t worry, you’re out of his life before you can say ‘Wesson’. What could someone like you _possibly_ have, that he would want? Besides your pretty face, you have nothing. You  _are_ nothing. Don’t you dare messing with my little brother’s head, or else you’re dealing with me!”  
  
Dean clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying really hard not to let the words get to him, but they were burning bright red in his brain, because deep inside he knew, they were true. All he wanted to do now was burst out of this door and never come back ever again. He didn't want to face any of the Wessons right now, least of all Sam and his eyes full of affection, which was only temporary. But it wasn't like he had a choice.  
  
So after Gabriel stormed out of the kitchen, he grabbed the plates and went back to the dining room. Sam and his weird radar noticed that something was wrong almost immediately.  
  
“Dean, are you alright?” he asked with a concerned voice. Dean nodded, but couldn't bring himself to look into his eyes.  
  
“What the hell did you do?” Sam turned his now angry gaze to his brother.  
  
Don raised his eyebrow on the curse, but said nothing.  
  
“What do you mean, what did I do?” Gabriel shot back. “The question is,  _whom_ did  _he_ do!” he pointed at Dean, who was now staring on a spot on the tablecloth unable to move.  
  
Sam opened his mouth in shock, because he already knew, where this conversation was headed.  
  
“Because do you know, who he is? Do you know  _what_ he is? He’s a  _hooker_ for Christ’s sakes, Sam!”  
  
Don Wesson put his whiskey glass down. It was a very quiet sound, muffed by the tablecloth, but it still silenced everyone in the room.  
  
“I know,” Sam said finally. Dean felt his own hands shake and he really wanted to hold Sam’s for both their comforts, but he wasn't capable to so much as blink.  
  
“Excuse me?” That was Don’s voice.  
  
“I know, because that’s how we met, while he was working. And wanna know what I was doing there? Why I drove around the wrong side of the town in the first place?”  
  
Sam’s voice was now heated with anger and Dean noticed that it was Gabriel’s face that went pale now.  
  
“I was there because my brother’s friends called me to pick him up, scared that he OD’d! By the time I got there it turned out he just passed out, though!”  
  
Gabriel looked like he was just hit in the face. His wife stared at him with opened mouth and Don’s face was red with anger ready to burst out and he kept glancing between both his sons, as though he couldn't decide, which way he should yell first.  
  
“You know what; I'm done with this family’s hypocrisy,” Sam said calmly, but the anger was almost visibly bubbling through. “I'm just done. You don’t get do dictate me, who I am allowed to date or not. You don’t own my life, even if you think so.”  
  
And with that, he turned around and started walking away.  
  
“If you walk out of that door, don’t you bother coming back!” Don yelled after him.  
  
Dean’s mouth fell open. He couldn't quite understand, what was happening here. This family had everything, fame and fortune, even good genes and whatever everyone wishes for and they just couldn't get over themselves and have a nice dinner together.  
  
Not even at his worst could he imagine his dad ever saying anything like that to him. He saw the way Sam stopped in the door, clenched his fists, bowed his head and he knew how much this hurt him. But he walked away without looking back.  
  
“How dare you?” Dean exploded at Don, who flinched and looked at him as though it was the first time he ever saw him. “How dare you say something like that to your own son? Kick me out, yell at me, hate  _me_ , but don’t turn your back on him like that! You’re his family!”  
  
Everybody was quiet and Dean was sick of all their faces. He ran after Sam, leaving a completely stunned and taken aback Wesson family behind.


	11. Chapter 11

When they got back home, Sam finally let out the breath he’d been holding the whole way back. He didn't expect his family to accept Dean with open arms on the first dinner, but this was too much. What the fuck was it to Gabriel anyway, who he was and wasn't dating?! His wife used to be a freaking drug addict and Sam  _knew_ and didn't bring it up; their father had to figure that out on his own. He thought he could count on his brother. But obviously, he was wrong.  
  
He was so mad, he felt like smashing things against a wall, but he was also scared of how Dean would take it. Because the last time, the dinner ended up with his father practically disowning him, his boyfriend at that time left. He did come back a week later, but he still left and Sam was scared Dean would leave too.  
  
He heard the door close and he turned around and offered Dean a small smile to let him know that he was there, if he wanted to talk. But Dean was obviously very pissed and he just fumed past him.  
  
“Dean-, “Sam tried reaching for his shoulder, but his hand was shrugged off and Dean disappeared into his former bedroom without a single word.  
  
It stung Sam, that Dean preferred to sleep by himself, but he decided that maybe it was for the best. But he wasn't even lying in his own bed and he already knew, that he wasn't gonna be able to sleep, unless he talked to Dean. He needed to know, that he was staying.  
  
He found Dean sitting on the edge of his bed with head in his hands. He looked up, when he heard Sam coming and there was nothing but anger in his eyes. Sam’s chest clenched a little.  
  
“This is all that’s mine,” Dean said quietly and lifted up a small plastic bag, that didn't look even half-full. “That’s all that’s ever been mine in this fucking place,” he stood up and started pacing.  
  
“Dean, please, sit down and let’s talk about this,” Sam held out his hand, but Dean ignored it, so he pulled it back, trying hard to fight the fear that was building up inside him.  
  
“You don’t own me, Sam,” Dean glared at him, but stopped pacing, at least. “I didn't deserve to be humiliated like that. Knowing I just had to swallow it down and take it, because that’s the drill all your boyfriends have to go through.”  
  
“Dean, that’s not-“  
  
“Shut up!” Dean shouted and Sam flinched.  
  
He wanted desperately to make Dean listen, to tell him, that he doesn't care about what his father and brother think, as long as Dean stays. But he couldn't do that, if Dean in his rage wouldn't even let him speak.  
  
“I know that to people like you, I am nobody. I bet you think I don’t have any dignity left to be hurt by this. But let me tell you this, Sam. Back there on the streets, I had my reputation, you know? The people I lived and worked with, they were the closest thing I had to a family. And they  _cared_ about me. They took me in and they never looked down at me! Unlike people like you and your high society family. I don’t have to prove myself to them. I don’t have to change! I’m-I was happier there.”  
  
Sam had to bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling and blink a few times to stop the tears from welling in his eyes, because he already knew what was coming. It was just like the last time and he had no idea how to stop it. Dean was going to leave and it was killing Sam. But the more he tried to come up with something to say and change things, the less ideas he had.  
  
He noticed that Dean was looking at him expectantly, but when he opened his mouth to say something, it was Dean who spoke.  
  
“You’re not even gonna say anything. Figures.” Dean scoffed, shook his head in disbelief and walked toward the main door. Sam quickly followed.  
  
“And to think, I actually liked you! Like  _really_ liked you! You are one cruel son of a bitch, Sam Wesson, to get one’s hopes up and then just let your family rip them into pieces,” he held his hand on the door knob.  
  
“No, don’t go, please!” Sam didn't know what to do, what to say to make Dean stop from leaving. The ache in his chest grew stronger with each word Dean said.  
  
“I have no business here anymore; you stopped paying me a while back. Goodbye, Wesson, I hope I’ll never see you again,” and with that, Dean was gone.  
  
“Please don’t leave!” Sam managed to cry out, before the door closed for good.  
  
He fell on his knees and stopped fighting the tears. It felt as if Dean ripped his heart out and walked away with it. He considered running out and stopping Dean with force if necessary, but he couldn't even make his legs move. He started feeling very cold and desperate. He felt like a failure to everyone and everything.  
  
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered between sobs, but silence was the only answer.  
  


-xXx-

  
  
Sam opened his eyes. He was lying in his bed, soaked wet in cold sweat. Tears were spilling from his eyes and his chest was clenched. He quickly sat up and looked around. He was in his bedroom, that was for sure. He felt a movement next to him. Dean. Dean?! But Dean was-  
  
The events of last night finally caught up to him. They did indeed come back in tense silence, but they agreed they would talk about it in the morning and fell asleep next to each other. The rest was just a bad dream. He sighed in relief as he watched Dean shift in his sleep. He caught his hand in his to be sure Dean was still here and wanted to try to get some sleep again, when he noticed the tear running down Dean’s cheek.  
  
“S-Sam...please...” Dean whimpered softly.  
  


-xXx-

  
  
Dean came home from work and when he opened the door, he was surprised to hear voices from the living room. Sam wasn't supposed to be home yet. But if he decided to come home early today, Dean sure was not going to complain. He smiled and very cautiously stepped into their living room to spook Sam.  
  
When he entered, he froze in his steps, unable to believe his own eyes.  
  
There, on the couch was Sam, but he wasn't alone. He was with a tall, tanned blond and by the way their noses almost touched as they laughed, it wasn't just a colleague or a friend. Dean’s eyes started burning, but his mind was still trying to convince him, that what he was seeing wasn't in fact happening. Sam wouldn't. Right?  
  
The blond noticed him first. He quickly pulled away from Sam and got up to face Dean.  
  
“Who are you and how did you get here?” he frowned at Dean.  
  
Dean looked at him, opened his mouth, but nothing ever came out. He looked helplessly at Sam, seeking for help.  
Sam just rolled his eyes and got up as well to stand beside the blond guy.  
  
“Calm down, Pete. This is Dean, a whore I bought, because I missed company. Didn't know you’d come back to me,” he put a hand on Pete’s shoulder and smiled at him with the affection, that he used to show Dean.  
  
“Well, Mr. Whore,” Pete hissed with obvious disgust. “Sam doesn't need your services anymore, so how about you just  _get the fuck out_!”  
  
“S-Sam...What is this?” Dean finally managed to choke out. He couldn't believe it. It was real, it was happening. Sam got finally tired of him and was letting him go.  
  
“I guess I forgot to tell him,” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s obvious stupidity. He was still speaking to Pete. He finally turned his head toward Dean. The look in his eyes was breaking Dean’s heart. It was like he barely even remembered ever knowing Dean and what he  _did_ remember, didn't mean a thing to him. “I spoke to my dad. He told me that you yelled at him. Are you crazy? Who do you think you are to raise your voice at a Wesson? My dad at that? Should've gotten rid of you long time ago.”  
  
Then he turned back to Pete, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him. They were just making out in front of him and Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. He wasn't really seeing them anymore anyway, since the tears flooded his vision. He desperately tried to understand the sudden change in Sam’s behaviour.  
  
What was happening? Why was this happening? Dean’s head was spinning. He couldn't remember feeling like this ever before. Even when his parents died, they didn't just disappear out of his life, because he wasn't good enough for them. And here Sam was, the only person he’d opened his heart to in so many years, pushing him out of his life, like he was a mistake.  
  
“S-Sam...please...” he reached out to him, but Pete was in the way.  
  
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” he shoved Dean, who stumbled backwards and fell down.  
  
The both standing men started laughing. Dean just curled up to himself on the floor and cried. He didn't know what else to do. Someone gripped his shoulder and he heard Sam’s voice from far away.  
  
“Dean...Dean, wake up...Dean!”  
  


-xXx-

  
  
Despite the sleep-talking, Dean was deep in his sleep and it was hard for Sam to wake him up. But he wasn't going to let him cry in his sleep and begging for Sam’s help. Not when he could help him  _in real_.  
  
Dean looked every bit as confused as Sam felt, when he first woke up. He blinked at Sam and burst into tears. Sam held him tightly and rocked his body gently, trying to soothe him the best he could. The family visit obviously shook them both much worse, than he first thought. But it was going to be okay. They would get through this together. As long as Dean doesn't leave.  
  
“Don’t ever leave me.”   
  
It was Dean, who voiced Sam’s thoughts.  
  
“I could never leave you,” Sam assured him and pulled away to look into Dean’s eyes. “I...I think I love you,” he whispered. It was probably way too soon. Dean could freak out. But it was how Sam felt; there was no doubt about that.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened and he attacked Sam’s mouth, bruising it in a vicious kiss. He pulled away just as fast, though.  
  
“Take it back,” he pleaded. “Take it back before I fall for it.”  
  
“Go ahead,” Sam smiled at him and brushed away the tears from his face. “I’ll catch ya.”  
  
Dean chuckled and put his hands on Sam’s head as well.  
  
“I think I love you too,” he smiled at Sam.  
  
Sam’s heart was trying to break the record in the most beats per second. The most wonderful feeling filled him from head to toes and he felt lightheaded. He pressed a kiss on Dean’s forehead, eyelids, nose and then lips and he let that one last as long as Dean wanted.  
  
“Look at us,” Dean laughed, when he finally pulled away. “We’re a walking poster for stereotype. Two gay guys, crying and hand-holding like girls.”  
  
“Shut up,” said Sam, but laughed along.  
  
They fell back on the bed, holding each other. Sam was stroking Dean’s hair and Dean’s hand was drawing patterns on Sam’s chest.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled eventually.  
  
“For?”  
  
“Your family.”  
  
Sam felt a lump in his throat, but swallowed it down. He wasn't really happy about the way things turned out, but he didn't fully regret it either. It was something he should have done a long time ago.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.  
  
After a while of comfortable silence, Dean turned his face to him.  
  
“Is any of your ex’s name Pete by any chance?”  
  
“Uh, no? Why?” Sam looked at him with confusion.  
  
“No reason.”  
  
“What’d you dream about anyway?” Sam asked.  
  
“Nothing I wanna remember, trust me,” Dean sighed and snuggled closer to Sam.  
  
Yeh, Sam could understand  _that_. He planted a kiss on Dean’s temple and closed his eyes.  
  
They fell asleep a few hours later, both grateful, that it was Saturday and they didn't have to go to work.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean woke up to the sound of his cell phone. His deep-down-buried-in-the-closet cell phone, because he wasn't using it anymore. Sam got him a new one. He said it was to leave the past behind, but Dean figured he wanted a proof, that Dean was really staying. Speaking of Sam...where was he? He heard the shower running, so he assumed that was probably, where Sam was.  
  
He got up and fished for his old cell phone to check the caller’s id. Riddley.  
  
 _Fuck!_  
  
“Uh, hi Riddley,” he tried to sound friendly, but searched for clothes and got dressed in no time using only one hand.  
  
“Hey, Dean-o. Imagine this, I was just going through my calendar and I realized, it’s been way past a week since we saw each other last time,” Riddley’s tone wasn't hostile at all, but Dean knew better than to let it fool him.  
  
“I know, I'm sorry. I just...lost my track of time. But hey, how about I paid you a visit right now?” Dean was relying on the fact, that Riddley liked him and that he’d never made a mistake before. If he showed the good will and paid right now, things should be fine.  
  
“That would be very nice of you. I’ll be in my office. Don’t keep me waiting,” Riddley said and hung up the phone. Someone listening to their call from the outside would easily miss the threat to the way Riddley kept his voice nice and easy.  
  
He quickly checked his wallet for money, borrowed the rest of it from Sam’s, scrambled a note for him and ran away from the door. He didn't want to keep Riddley waiting.  
  


-xXx-

  
Sam emerged from the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. There was a note on the pillow, so he picked it up and read it.  
  
 _Riddley called. Had to give him money._  
Borrowed some from you, will pay back, sorry!  
Hopefully be home soon,  
Love D.   
  
A rush of panic hit him. He heard stories and saw movies and his memory supplied him enough images of Dean bloodied and beaten down to be terrified, that Dean might not be coming back from Riddley’s alive. There was no way Sam would ever let anything like that happen! He quickly grabbed the keys and ran out of the house.  
  


-xXx-

  
Meanwhile Dean was standing in Riddley’s office, shifting his weight uncomfortably, as Riddley was counting the money Dean gave him.  
  
“This is a lot more than the last time,” he said once he was done.  
  
“Yeah, I thought I would give you more, you know, for the...delay,” Dean flashed the best fake smile he could at him.  
  
“You’re a smart guy, Dean,” Riddley grinned lopsidedly.  
  
Then he considered Dean for a moment.  
  
“So this Wesson guy,” he said slowly, watching Dean’s every reaction and Dean felt the sweat trickling down his spine. “He’s gonna steal you away, isn't he?”  
  
Dean gaped at him. There was no point lying to Riddley, but at the same time, he was scared what would happen if he said yes. What if Riddley wouldn't let him go?  
  
“Yo, Riddley,” said one of Riddley’s bodyguards, who was monitoring the street through surveillance cameras. Dean took a deep breath, thankful for the momentary distraction. “Is this one of ours?” he pointed at one of the monitors. A tall guy in a white shirt was obviously getting mugged by a group of bad looking guys. Dean took a step closer and his heart almost stopped, when he recognized the guy under attack.  
  
“Sam!” he yelled and ran out of the club.  
  
When he was just mere steps away from the group, he saw a metal flash. One of the robbers had a knife!  
  
“No!” Dean yelled. The muggers turned to him. He must have had Riddley’s dogs following him, because they began to run away immediately. Dean, however, didn't care about them at all. All he cared about was Sam, who was lying on the ground and not moving.  
  
“Sam? Sam, can you hear me?” Dean dropped to his knees next to him and inspected Sam’s injuries. His face was bloodied and one of his eyes was already swollen shut, but nothing seemed broken. That was when Dean noticed the growing red stain in Sam’s side.  
  
“Oh God, no,” he whispered as he pulled Sam’s shirt up. They obviously hit him with the knife.  
  
“D’n,” Sam tried to talk through the blood in his mouth. He focused his only opened eyes on Dean and lifted his arm to Dean’s face.  
  
“Don’t talk, Sammy,” Dean grabbed his hand and kissed it gently. “I'm gonna get you into hospital, they’re gonna patch you up, you’ll be as good as new,” he smiled down at Sam through the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “I got you,” he murmured and kissed Sam’s forehead before getting up.  
  
“I got you.”  
  


-xXx-

  
In the hospital, it was crazy. When they asked about Sam’s last name, he decided to go for Winchester. He was hoping that wasn't a mistake. However, Sam had it pretty well covered, because no one ever showed up with a complaint about health-insurance not being paid for or anything.  
  
Sam spent hours in the surgery room. Okay, maybe it wasn't  _that_ long, but to Dean it felt like a lifetime. He just stopped a tenth nurse to ask her, if she knew anything about Sam, but she just shooed him away and said she didn't have the time. Dean realized then, that he was still clutching Sam’s jacket. He didn't remember even picking it up.  
  
He fished through his pockets and found Sam’s cell phone. He searched through the contact list and didn't even surprise him, when he found Sam’s father’s number under ‘Don’ instead of ‘Dad’. He took a deep breath and dialled it.  
  
It kept ringing and Dean was just about to give up, when Don picked up.  
  
“Hello?” said a gruff voice.  
  
“Hello, Mr. Wesson, this is,” Dean closed his eyes and breathed again. “This is Dean. Sam’s Dean.  _Pleasedon’thangup_!” he yelled before the other man had the chance to do so. “This is about Sam. He’s in hospital. It’s bad. He got stabbed and now he’s in surgery. I know you hate me and you have every right to do so. But Sam’s gonna need you. Please.” Dean held his breath and waited for the reply, should any come.  
  
Don sighed on the other end of the line. “Okay. Thank you for calling me, uh...Dean.”  
  
And with that, he hung up.  
  


-xXx-

  
After agonizingly long hours, that Dean didn't have the energy to count, a doctor finally came to see him and told him, that Sam would be all right. He was still unconscious, but Dean was allowed to see him.  
  
Sam was in the hospital bed, several tubes being plugged into his system. He seemed too pale, too fragile and Dean almost couldn't bare the sight. He remembered what Sam told him about watching him, when  _he_ was after an attack. He was sure this was worse, because they didn't know each other back then, now they were in love.  
  
“Hey, there,” he smiled slightly, as if Sam could see it. His voice was thick with both cried and uncried tears. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again, man. The doctor said you’ll be fine, so this time I’m letting you off the hook. But there better be no next time.  
  
“I hope you won’t kill me, but I borrowed your phone. Had to call your dad.” Dean actually cringed at that, half-expecting Sam to wake up and punch him. “Your family had to know you were hurt. I'm sure he’ll come to see you. Or at least your brother. Didn't dare to call him, the last time we spoke, he almost killed me just with his eyes,” Dean chuckled mirthlessly. “But they’re family, right? So I called them.” Dean was holding Sam’s hand as he spoke and now he leaned down to kiss Sam’s lips. “He’s not gonna want to see me here. So when you wake up, I might not be around. But I’ll be here, okay? I’ll be here, somewhere and I’ll be waiting for my chance to speak with you. I love you, Sam. I'm sorry you got hurt, because of me.”  
  
“Because of you?” a familiar voice said.  
  
Dean spun around to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe of Sam’s room. He felt the colour rush out of his.  
  
“I-I didn't do this to him, I swear!” he said and took a step back, even though Gabriel was already far enough not to be able to do anything to him.  
  
“Then who did?” Gabriel’s voice wasn't friendly, but it wasn't the ice-cold hate from their last conversation either.  
  
“I had to go to Riddley. Money. I didn't know Sam was following me, I thought he’d wait at home. The next thing I know, there’s a group of assholes beating him. I wish I was there...”his eyes dropped back to Sam’s unconscious body. He ran a finger across his cheekbone, then he remembered, who was he in the room with and quickly pulled his hand back.  
  
“You and I need to talk,” Gabriel said and pushed himself off the dooframe. “Well, I need to talk. I’d like to explain myself to you.”  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow.  
  
“The things I said back at our father’s house? About you being nothing and stuff? I don’t think them anymore.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened. This was certainly  _not_ , what he was expecting.  
  
“I  _did_ , back then,” Gabriel continued. “And I can’t really say I'm sorry. I thought you were just using my brother, you know? Sam’s too kind and open for his own good. I just didn't want you to hurt him. So I tried to scare you away.”  
  
“It almost worked,” Dean said.  
  
“But I heard you now and I think you really care for Sam. You saved his life, after all. Even though you might be the reason it was ever in danger in the first place.”  
  
Dean slightly flinched at that.  
  
“You know, when he first brought home a boy, Dad was furious. He said things that chased the boy away. Chris was his name? Anyway, not important. I was the one, who talked him into going back to Sam. He was wrecked. I gotta look out for my little brother,” he smiled.  
  
“And the way he was looking at him is nothing in compare to the way he looks at  _you_. He loves you, I can tell. He would never tell dad about the...incident with me almost over-dosing, if I hadn't told dad about you.”  
  
“I love him, too, you know?” Dean looked straight into Gabriel’s eyes. He still didn't  _like_ the guy, but he couldn't say he didn't understand him now.  
  
“I believe you. I think dad’s starting to believe you too. It was him, who called me here. He even admitted it was you, who called him. You have balls, man. After what you said to him,” he laughed.  
  
Dean looked at him confused. What he said wasn't  _that_ bad, was it?  
“Nobody  _ever_ yelled at Don Wesson,” Gabriel explained. “We all want to, of course. But none of us ever dared. Until you. I think once he’s past the anger, he’ll come to respect you.”  
  
Okay now Dean had to pinch himself, because this just couldn't have been real.  
  
“Dad will arrive in a few hours. I say, let’s try to settle things?”  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
“Good. Now go get some sleep. You look like hell.”  
  
“I don’t wanna leave Sam,” Dean shook his head.  
  
“Trust me man, you don’t want him seeing you like this. Go at least change, there’s blood all over you. I’ll watch him.”  
  
Dean eventually agreed, even though very reluctantly. He drove Sam to the hospital in Sam’s own car, so he used it to get back home, as well. He took a quick, hot shower and changed his clothes. He threw away the ones he was wearing before. He made himself a coffee to go and drove back to the hospital.  
  
When he walked to Sam’s room, he saw that he was awake already. His heart leapt, but before he could throw himself at him, he spotted another person in the room, aside from Gabriel. Don apparently arrived a few hours sooner.  
  
Dean looked around himself quickly. He had to get inside and see Sam, he had to. But he didn't want to worsen things with the Wesson family. The luck was on his side, though, as he spotted opened door to the doctor’s locker room. He grabbed the nearest coat, hat and mask and pretended to be a doctor, who came in to check Sam’s vitals and temperature.  
  
Don couldn't have been in here for long, judging by the conversation.  
  
“I'm glad to see you’re okay,” Don said.  
  
“Well, I'm glad to see you period,” Sam smiled. “Honestly surprised, but glad.”  
  
“Well thank that boyfriend of yours for that.”  
  
“Dean?” Sam looked around. “Where is he anyway? Did any of you see him?”  
  
Dean’s heart clenched. He hoped Sam didn't think he would just  _abandon_ him like that.  
  
“Oh, Dean’s right here, alright?” Don said. “Doing a very lousy job pretending to be a doctor.”  
  
Dean froze. He put down his mask, and turned around very slowly. He could feel the eyes of all three Wessons burning through his back.  
  
“I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything,” he said hurriedly. “I just-I saw Sam was awake and I had to see him. But I didn't know how’d you feel about it and I didn't want to fight in front of Sam.”  
  
Sam’s hand found his and he squeezed it gently. Sam smiled warmly at him.  
  
“Hi,” he said softly.  
  
Don got up from his chair.  
  
“Well, we’ll leave you to it. I just wanted you to know, Dean, that I'm willing to try to start over, seeing that you’re serious about Sam."  
  
“Are you growing soft, dad?” Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  
  
Don smiled and nodded at Gabriel.  
  
“Tell them.”  
  
“Lucinda’s pregnant,” he said with a strange look in his eyes. Like he wasn't even looking at them. But the smile on his face was real. He sure was happy.  
  
“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” Sam exclaimed. “Congratulations! No wonder you’re growing soft, grandpa!” he turned to Don.  
  
“Congratulations Gabriel,” Dean smiled at him tentatively. Gabriel smiled back and shook his hand.  
  
“Thanks man.”  
  
And with that, both older Wessons walked away.  
  
Sam reached his arms out and Dean hugged him as tightly, as he thought was safe.  
  
“We did it,” Sam murmured into his ear. “Welcome to the family, Dean Smith.”  
  
They kissed long and deep, but without any rush or need for harshness.  
  
“I love you, Sam. I was so scared. Why’d you follow me?”  
  
“I was scared Riddley was gonna hurt you,” Sam bit his bottom lip. “But hey, I'm okay now.”  
  
“I’ll make sure you’re always okay, from now on,” Dean said and kissed Sam again.  
  
"So how'd it go? With Riddley, I mean," Sam asked.  
  
"Riddley knows. About us," Dean said.  
  
"And?" Sam raised his eyes.  
  
"Don't know. It was weird. I think...I think he's gonna let me go," Dean shrugged. "He certainly didn't try to stop me."  
  
"That's cause you're  _mine_ ," Sam grinned.  
  
"Yours," Dean nodded and kissed Sam again.  
  


-xXx-

Epilogue-Two years later

  
  
“I can’t believe we did it,” Dean said, looking at his and Sam’s golden rings on their left ring fingers.  
  
“A little late for second thoughts, don’t you think?” Sam propped himself up on the bed next to Dean.  
  
“I could always divorce you,” Dean elbowed him half-heartedly.  
  
“You wouldn't!” Sam faked a pout.  
  
“Damn right, I wouldn't,” Dean flung himself on top of Sam in one motion. “You’re my happily ever after,” he smiled down at Sam.  
  
Sam drew his head down and kissed him hungrily.  
  
“So, about the wedding night,” Dean grinned and slid his hands under Sam’s shirt.  
  
“Wouldn't be you if you didn't think about sex, when we’re having a moment,” Sam laughed, but helped to get his shirt off anyway.  
  
Then they both proceeded to kiss, hoping, they could stay this way forever.


End file.
